Movie Music U.K. As Heard In The Film 2000
THE SIXTH DAY 
TREVOR RABIN
Oh, look, Arnie's having trouble with his memory again. In The Sixth Day, a film which at times seems like a conceptual rehash of Total Recall, the muscle-bound 1980s superstar plays Adam Gibson, a dependable family man who makes a living as a commercial helicopter pilot, who returns home one day to find himself already there, celebrating his birthday with his wife and son. It soon becomes apparent that, somehow, Adam has become a victim of a "sixth day violation" in which a human being has been illegally cloned (the film is a set in the near future where animal cloning technology is widely available). Before long, the company that carried out the cloning has sent a gang of goons (led by Michael Rooker) to dispose of one of the two Adams, restoring the equilibrium before anyone notices. However, our Arnie is having none of it, and sets about reclaiming his life and his family, locking horns with evil millionaire businessman Tony Goldwyn and brilliant but deluded scientist Robert Duvall along the way. Roger Spottiswoode's film is slick, enjoyable entertainment designed to appeal to Schwarzenegger's broad fan base: nothing more, nothing less. He even manages to work in a sly variation of his old "I'll be back" line as a nod and a wink to the audience, letting them know that he can still do the stuff on the silver screen. But the problem is that he doesn't generate the screen presence that he used to. Despite numerous scenes to the contrary, you get the niggling feeling that Michael Rooker could, under normal circumstances, beat the crap out of him any day of the week. Other than this slight problem in central casting, The Sixth Day makes for a good night out. The core theme of human cloning is an interesting one, and screenwriters Cormac and Marianne Wibberley have the bones of an engrossing drama buried underneath the Hollywood sci-fi slickness. The make-up effects in the cloning scenes are also worth mentioning, creating a fascinating (if a little disconcerting) look at the potential future our scientific explorations may bring. Trevor Rabin's score is nondescript at best, never rising to the fore during the film, and as a result remaining as pure background music. Rabin wouldn't be Rabin without writing some serious electric guitar riffs for himself, and the South African's screaming strings can be heard underneath the many action sequences. The opening titles feature a passable central theme, there's an admittedly rather attractive theme for Adam and his wife, and some surprising ethnic/Indian inflections can be heard in selected scenes: their inclusion serves no dramatic purpose, and doesn't seem to motivically relate to a particular character or plot element, but it makes for interesting listening. Overall, its Media Ventures film scoring 101: loud, efficient, effective, but totally expendable.
MEET THE PARENTS
RANDY NEWMAN
I've never done it myself (yet!) but I would imagine the prospect of meeting your future father and mother-in-law for the first time must rank up there with driving tests as one of the most nerve-wracking experiences of your life. In Jay Roach's enjoyable comedy Meet the Parents, the unfortunately-named Greg Focker (Ben Stiller), undergoes this very same torture, accompanied by his devoted girlfriend Pam (Teri Polo). to whom he plans to propose marriage. Greg is desperate to make a good impression on her father Jack (Robert De Niro) so that he may "ask for her hand", but is totally unprepared for the weekend ahead: a disastrous comedy of errors ranging from burning pagodas, bruising volleyball matches, and cats urinating in ashes, to the revelation that, rather than being a florist as everyone believes, the already imposing Jack turns out to be a former agent with the FBI, who is not aversed to using sophisticated surveillance equipment and polygraph tests to ensure his beloved first born does not marry the wrong man. Yes, Meet the Parents is a comedy; and not a very subtle one at that. The broad slapstick and verbal banter that makes this movie work is sure to appeal to the broadest fan base, and has gone on to be a box office hit on both sides of the pond. If I tell you that the film gets a great deal of mileage out of Greg's surname (Focker), and his wife-to-be's middle name (Martha). Ben Stiller is appealing as the son-in-law who's so desperate to please it hurts, and Owen Wilson has a smashing cameo as Pam's former boyfriend, now a wealthy freelance carpenter. Robert De Niro, however, has the standout role, mercilessly sending up his tough-guy image, even going so far as to lampoon his own performances in Taxi Driver and The Deer Hunter. Oddly, Randy Newman's music for Meet the Parents never really reaches the forefront of the movie, instead sitting behind the action, muted and distant. His opening title song, "A Fool in Love", gets a good work out, and is subjected to a wonderful French treatment during the end credits, complete with Moulin Rougey vocals by Susanna Hoffs and a host of accordions. What score you can hear tends to be of the low-key orchestral variety, lending a light-hearted charm to the proceedings. One or two cues, notably during the sequence with the "burning pagoda", Newman engages in some Pleasantville-style choral writing, which sounds lovely, but which again is too far down in the mix to make a real impression. The album, on the Dreamworks label, gives a much better representation of Newman's work, combining eleven score tracks with a half dozen songs; some by Newman, others by artists such as Bobby Womack and Dr John. Click here for a full review of Meet the Parents.
URBAN LEGENDS: FINAL CUT
JOHN OTTMAN
Although it has, in the past, been a fruitful breeding ground for fledgling directors, I actually feel rather sorry that John Ottman found himself saddled with a movie like Urban Legends: Final Cut as a debut feature. Although the film is likely to vanish without a trace and be quickly forgotten in the bigger scheme of things, this is nevertheless a landmark piece of cinema as the first (as far as I am aware!) movie directed by a mainstream film composer. A sequel of sorts to a horror movie which was not really very successful in the first place, Final Cut takes place at a prestigious film school, where aspiring directors, actors, and technicians hone their craft with a view to breaking into the studio system. Students Amy Mayfield (Jennifer Morrison), Travis Stark (Matthew Davis) and Graham Manning (Joey Lawrence) are competing for the Hitchcock Award, a highly prized trophy which virtually guarantees a chance to direct a Hollywood feature. However, Amy's decision to make a horror movie based on urban legends backfires when her cast and crew are gruesomely murdered one by one. With only a security guard (Loretta Devine, reprising her role from the first film) and her tutor (Hart Bochner) for support, Amy sets about unmasking the killer behind the fencing mask. As horror movies go, Final Cut is OK. The setting is appropriately atmospheric, the set piece set-ups good and tense, and the murders themselves are gleefully and gratuitously gory. Ottman set himself a difficult task on this movie, undertaking the hitherto unprecedented triple-role of director, editor and composer. To be fair, Ottman shows a lot of flair, and handles the action well; his time spent studying USC was obviously not spent in vain. The cast are young and good-looking, but do not provide any lasting memories, and the screenplay by Paul Harris Boardman and Scott Derrickson is functional, if a little uninspiring dialogue-wise. For composers, horror movies often provide fertile land on which to sow the seeds of a resounding score experience, and Ottman responds to his own direction with a big, pulsating, orchestral horror opus. It's large-scale, loud and frenetic, and propels the action along at a breakneck pace, lending the horrific moments a deathly edge, and draping the quieter ones in a wash of musical dread. The main theme, which plays over the opening credits and features throughout, is one of Ottman's familiar "mysterious" melodies not too dissimilar to the ones he wrote for The Usual Suspects and Incognito, and which provides a welcome thematic consistency through the carnage. As a side note: watch for the little in-jokes Ottman throws at us score fans throughout the movie - finishing with a wonderful allusion to Charles Gounod's March of the Marionettes during the evil little epilogue. And trust a film composer making his directorial debut to film one of the movie's central "stalk-and-slash" scenes on a scoring stage!
THE FAMILY MAN
DANNY ELFMAN
Every Christmas, there comes a heart-warming movie which tells the story of a man whose stony heart is melted by the kindness of others, the welcoming arms of a family, and the love of a good woman. From A Christmas Carol to A Wonderful Life, right up to The Grinch, stories revolving around emotional redemption and embracing the Yuletide spirit make for compelling viewing. Director Brett Ratner's The Family Man is one such movie - a film which is full of clichés and is predictable to the nth degree, but which is made highly enjoyable by good writing, strong performances, and a level of decency and integrity that permeates the film as a whole. Nicolas Cage stars as Jack Crawford, a millionaire financial consultant on Wall Street who has it all: perfect apartment, perfect car, and a string of gorgeous supermodel girlfriends. But then, on Christmas Eve, Jack unselfishly defuses a tense situation during a grocery store robbery and, as a reward is offered a "glimpse" of the life he might have had if he had not left his then-girlfriend Kate Reynolds (Téa Leoni) at the airport and gone to London thirteen years ago. Suddenly, Jack finds himself in suburban New Jersey, married to Kate, with two kids, a dog, a job at a tyre store, and a social life that revolves around drinking with his buddies and bowling. Initially horrified, but in true genre fashion, Jack slowly comes to appreciate his new life and surroundings... until he realises that glimpses, by definition, are brief. Cage and Leoni make for a convincing, natural couple, and both actors deliver performances that are up there with their best screen work. Cage handles the transition from cold-hearted broker to doting father with consummate ease, credibly conveying the obvious confusion and frustration a man in his situation would feel, but subtly altering his performance nuances as his relationships and priorities change. The writing, by David Diamond and David Weissman, is unfussy, meaningful and intelligent, asking thought-provoking questions about the nature of fate, while still keeping the tone light - and occasionally very funny. The Christmas party scene is especially hilarious, mainly for the gamut of expressions Cage employs while frantically trying to assimilate information on all the people his alter ego has known for years. Danny Elfman and Frank Capra do not make obvious bedfellows, but Danny Elfman and Christmas most certainly do. No other composer working today is able to conjure up the nostalgic aspect, and the sheer magic of the festive season as Elfman can in his music. The Family Man is possibly Elfman's sweetest, most attractive score since Edward Scissorhands; a score which basks in the warm glow of the festive season. There are obvious Elfmanisms in the score, although the tone is lighter than in recent times, but the unmistakable emotion remains intact. Suburbia is scored with the usual combination of frivolous pizzicato and offbeat orchestrations, while some of the more tense moments combine urban riffs with Dead President's style percussion. However, by far the most affecting moments of the score are the emotional ones. Elfman has an unnerving ability to make snow seem romantic; two scenes where Cage is out walking in the winter air are musically reminiscent of the famous Winona Ryder "ice dancing" sequence, combing a beautiful theme with a soft, cooing choir that provides a beautiful counterpoint to the strings. Only two tracks, amounting to 6 minutes, are included on the London album, which instead concentrates on pop acts such as Seal, Elvis Costello and Chris Isaak. However, rumour has it that a score album may be forthcoming, so watch this space!
THE ART OF WAR
NORMAND CORBEIL
Having endured The Art of War, I am forced to wonder just why this movie was ever released into cinemas. There were eleven people in the theatre (including me); everyone was silent, bemused and slightly bored by the proceedings (including me). The film, directed by Canadian journeyman Christian Duguay, stars Wesley Snipes as Neil Shaw, a covert operative working deep undercover for the United Nations in many of the world's troublespots. Shaw is a man for whom anonymity is essential - after a successful operation in Hong Kong, UN Secretary General Douglas Thomas (Donald Sutherland) tellingly quips: "How do you give a man who doesn't exist a medal for something which never happened?" However, Shaw's cover is well and truly blown when, during an important financial conference, Chinese Ambassador Woo (James Hong) is assassinated, and Shaw's partner Bly (Michael Biehn) killed in the melee. Abandoned by his superiors (including security chief Anne Archer), Shaw finds himself pursued by the police, the Chinese authorities, and a group of Triads loyal to shady businessman David Chan (Cary-Hiroyuki Tagawa), all of whom think him responsible for Woo's death. As Shaw desperately search for clues to find the real killer, clear his name and save his life, he finds unlikely allies in world-weary cop Capella (Maury Chaykin) and spunky embassy translator Julia Fang (Marie Matiko). In many ways, The Art of War is an archetypal "wrong man accused/fights to clear his name" action flick. It's also very familiar, very predictable, and would probably gone straight-to-video had it not had such a big name cast. Wesley Snipes plays Neil Shaw as a strong, silent type, not too dissimilar to the persona he adopted in U.S. Marshals in 1998. Sadly, in The Art of War he only succeeds in making himself seem surly and boring, and completely lacking in character. With no motivation or sympathy, the only real reasons to see The Art of War are to marvel at Snipes' actually rather impressive dexterity in the fight scenes, and to play the age-old cinema game of count the cliché. The screenplay, by Wayne Beach, completely telegraphs all the plot twists, wrecking the possibility of any kind of revelatory conclusion, and Duguay's direction is confusing, and a little too stylised with its whirling cameras and flashy editing. French-Canadian composer Normand Corbeil continues his gradual progression into the big-league with his score for The Art of War, having previously worked on second tier sci-fi thrillers such as Screamers, and the surprise 1999 hit Double Jeopardy. Sadly, The Art of War never recaptures the essence of his previous works, instead seeming content to rely on an endless procession of thumping drum pads and electronic beats, overlaid with various whooshing and zooming sound effects. Much of the movie is underscored by Corbeil's synthesisers, pushing along the action in an appropriate, effective, but totally uninspired manner. Without wanting to sound unfair to M. Corbeil, this kind of score I would imagine that virtually every film composer working today could write blindfold, and for such a comparatively high profile film as this, it's rather disappointing to see so little innovation going on. Only in the finale does Corbeil let rip with a symphony orchestra (led by Mark Isham's long-time collaborator Ken Kugler) - the film's one and only musical high spot. It's obviously what Duguay wanted, but it makes no musical statements whatsoever, and is unlikely to further Corbeil's career in any significant manner.
THE GRINCH
JAMES HORNER
I set myself a little task. And what was that, I hear you ask? It was to write a review in rhyme - but only if I could find the time. I wanted to make it cute and clever. But could I do it? Could I ever! The film The Grinch has hit these shores, and was met with umpteen rapturous roars (it's title was changed for my British kin - the shorter version would draw them in). It's based on Seuss's children's tale, which was big in America, but in Britain failed. It stars Jim Carrey as the nasty Grinch, who from discomfort did not flinch. His make-up was done by the great Rick Baker, who is a master make-up maker. With fur of yak and long green fingers, the look of Carrey in the memory lingers, and though it did not come with ease, the end result looks sure to please! The Grinch lives high above the town of Who-ville, where the people think he's horrible and evil. The Who-ville folks love the festive season, and preparing for it gives their lives a reason. But Grinch hates Christmas and all its trappings, its stockings and lights and tinsel wrappings. For when he was a Grinch in school the other kids made him look a fool, because he was different, and had green hair - it wasn't right, it wasn't fair! So he went to live on the mountain top, where he could grinch and groan and never stop, causing all the havoc he could muster, sending Who-ville's mayor into a fluster. But one small girl named Cindy Lou, saw the real Grinch, she saw right through. She knew that he could make a new start, and knew he'd have a change of heart, if she could stop the Whos from being cruel, and let the Grinch feel the warmth of Yule. But the Grinch has plans of his own to do - he was going to show those heinous Whos! He'd sneak into all the Who-houses, wearing a Santa hat and big red trousers, and take their trees and gifts and presents, and leave them all as poor as peasants. The Grinch would make Christmas disappear! But Cindy Lou has other ideas... I'll stop rhyming now, because it's getting more and more difficult. How Theodore Geisel (aka Dr Seuss) managed to write so many children's books in rhyming verse is amazing. Ron Howard's visually stimulating movie of the book is great fun, but nothing more - a triumph of production design, costumes and makeup that glorify what, in effect, is just a chance for Jim Carrey to show off his physical and vocal dexterity. Having never seen the "classic" 1960s animation, and knowing very little about The Grinch at all, it seemed to me like the story was a little hackneyed; but then, I suppose, it is a fairy story, none of which are exactly wonderful examples of literary ingenuity. Carrey has a ball in his latex outfit, mugging and grimacing and adopting a funny voice to deliver his bitter anti-festive diatribes. Newcomer Taylor Momsen is adorable as the little moppet Cindy Lou-Who (even managing to avoid being cloying during her song solo), Jeffrey Tambor is rambunctious as the mayor, Christine Baranski is sultry as the Grinch's childhood sweetheart Martha May Whovier, and Bill Irwin reminded me of William H. Macy. I don't know why. James Horner wrote the music for The Grinch, and yet again has created a magnificent, spine-tingling score that is certain to please all his fans. The most talked-about aspect of his score is the "whobilation" music, for which Horner created a whole load of weird and wacky instruments which toot and bang and (occasionally) even make flatulence noises! The rest of the score is pure Horner - lively, uplifting, fully orchestral, and with a level of grace and emotion that remains unsurpassed. This original melody is adapted from the latest Horner/Jennings song "Where Are You Christmas?", performed over the end credits by Faith Hill, and which acts as Cindy Lou's theme in the underscore proper. There is action music a-plenty, some of which seems to have been derived from his scores for Ransom and Deep Impact, and some funky jazz reminiscent of Honey, I Shrunk the Kids from many moons ago. And then there is the "Horner Moment", when the Grinch has his change of heart and witnesses a beautiful sunrise over the mountains above Who-ville. The CD, on Interscope Records, has half an hour of score (some of which includes dialogue) coupled with songs by Barenaked Ladies, Ben Folds, Smash Mouth, 'N Sync, and oddly appropriate Busta Rhymes. Click here for a full review of How the Grinch Stole Christmas.
RED PLANET
GRAEME REVELL
Red Planet is an unusual science fiction film; how often do you get a major, studio-funded flick where one of the major plot points is to do with disappearing algae? Advertising director Antony Hoffman, making his movie debut here, has lovingly crafted a gorgeous-looking, scientifically sound space epic which, unfortunately, is very boring. Val Kilmer stars as one of a team of astronauts sent from Earth to Mars to investigate the disappearance of a colony of oxygen-emitting algae, sent to the planet by terrestrial scientists in an attempt to create a breathable atmosphere there. Along for the ride are tough-as-nails commander Carrie Anne Moss, scientist Tom Sizemore, flyboy soldier Benjamin Bratt, philosopher Terence Stamp, and last-minute replacement Simon Baker. When an orbital accident cripples the spacecraft and maroons the team on the surface, it soon becomes a battle for survival as the air runs out... a situation not helped by the fact that their navigation robot AMEE has been damaged, and is now permanently stuck in "search and destroy" mode. Red Planet looks lovely, and has sensational special effects; but its just too cerebral for its own good. Screenwriter Chuck Pfarrer seems more interested in pondering the mysteries of the universe and exploring the metabolism of single celled organisms than keeping his audience entertained. Unfortunately, this lack of lustre translates into the performances: Kilmer is boring, Sizemore is annoying, and Stamp is almost comatose. Only Carrie-Anne Moss, who was so good in The Matrix and Memento, seems to have any personality in her Ripley-like role as the crew commander, despite spending the entire duration of the movie cocooned inside the spaceship, on her own, talking to the computer and welding. Contrary to popular belief, Graeme Revell's original score is actually a rather straightforward affair, mixing a moderately-sized symphony orchestra with a whole host of samples and electronic effects. As if to emphasise the film's futuristic setting, much of Revell's music contains a combination techno/pop beat, lending an unusual but somehow appropriate edge to several scenes, notably the extended opening monologue and at certain moments the crew's long journey through hyperspace. Other moments of note include the beautiful string and piano elegy that plays under one of Kilmer's more thoughtful scenes, bringing to the fore his feelings of isolation and failure. Similarly, several action cues build upon the techno elements and drive forward the movie with forceful, electric momentum. Unfortunately, the voice of Parisian opera star Emma Shapplin features only once - during the first section of the end credits; surely a missed opportunity, as anyone who has heard any of her three sensational songs on the soundtrack will attest. Whether the powers that be determined that her vocals were unsuitable as score material (perhaps a knock-on effect of the unconventional Mission to Mars score?), or whether they were created as soundtrack tie-ins in the first place remains a mystery. As well as Shapplin's songs, the Ark-21 CD contains three score cuts, plus songs by Sting, Peter Gabriel and Strange Cargo. Click here for a full review of Red Planet.
CHARLIE'S ANGELS
EDWARD SHEARMUR
Groan! Another remake of an old TV series! Charlie's Angels, those 70s chicks with big flares and even bigger hair, are back in an all-new big-screen action adventure that has its tongue planted firmly in its cheek. Director Joseph McGinty Nichol (credited as "McG") has crafted a loving homage to the style, celebrating and lampooning the genre in equal measure. Cameron Diaz, Drew Barrymore and Lucy Liu star as the scantily-clad, high-kicking action girls sent to stop an evil telecommunications company run by Roger Corwin (Tim Curry) from stealing a new voice-recognition software system from a genius inventor Eric Knox (Sam Rockwell) and his partner Vivian Wood (Kelly Lynch). Along for the ride are Bosley (Bill Murray), the angels' link with the elusive Charlie (John Forsythe), the trio's hapless boyfriends (Matt Le Blanc, Luke Wilson and Tom Green), and weasly villain The Thin Man (Crispin Glover). To say that Charlie's Angels is low on intelligence would be an understatement - plot exposition and witty repartee is not this movie's strong point. What Charlie's Angels does have in abundance, though, is style: from the kitschy, kinky costumes to the intentionally over-stylised set design and the blatantly obvious Matrix pastiches, the movie looks and feels the part. It's also quite plain that everyone was having a great time actually making the movie, which translates over to the screen. Charlie's Angels is undoubtedly a perfect movie for a popcorn-filled fun night out, but anyone expecting anything more substantial will be disappointed. It's also perhaps worth mentioning the seasick cinematography and MTV editing, which gave me a headache: like Armageddon, virtually no scene lasts for anything longer than 10 seconds, and the camera is never still, whirling around Drew Barrymore like a demented carousel. Russell Carpenter have should known better. In the Hollywood composing hierarchy, Edward Shearmur is the last man you would expect to score a movie like this, being a classically trained composer with a slew of costume dramas under his belt. But, surprisingly (and pleasingly!) his score is one of the highlights of the film as a whole. A big orchestra and lots of electronic samples are the order of the day, with Shearmur moving along the action at a decent tack. Several of the fight sequences are especially well scored, notably the first encounter with the Thin Man, the breakneck CART race, and the climactic showdown at the castle. Allyn Ferguson's original theme gets a modern makeover in the manner of Shaft and Mission: Impossible, with Shearmur taking the familiar melody and wrapping it in a swathe of up-tempo percussion loops and electronic pulses. As sacrilegious as this may be to devotees of the original series, and of Ferguson, the reworking succeeds wholly in context, giving it modern stylings to fit the contemporary settings, while still acknowledging its predecessor. As usual, the soundtrack marketing machine rolls ever onward, resulting in a mega-successful CD tie-in with 15 songs but no score. "Independent Woman" by Destiny's Child is top notch R&B track, and there are contributions from an eclectic group of artists including Leo Sayer, Spandau Ballet, Aerosmith, Heart, The Vapors, Marvin Gaye and Fatboy Slim. The album may also be worth checking out simply for Apollo Four Forty's (other) reworking of the TV theme.
THE SKULLS
RANDY EDELMAN
The influence of Ivy League secret societies on the political and legal landscape of America is a subject ripe for investigation by an intelligent, thought-provoking film. Unfortunately, The Skulls is not that movie. Instead, director Rob Cohen's first outing for six years is a slick, mindlessly enjoyable college thriller starring Joshua Jackson as law graduate Luke McNamara, who arrives at an upstate University deeply in debt and worried about his future. After displaying amazing sporting prowess in a boat race that impresses his peers, Luke is asked to join The Skulls, an elite and clandestine society that rewards its members with wealth and influence. However, when Luke's investigative journalist roommate Will (Hill Harper) is murdered, seemingly by fellow Skull and "soul mate" Caleb Mandrake (Paul Walker), it becomes apparent that success comes at a terrible price. Hounded by the police, doubted by his girlfriend (Leslie Bibb) and not knowing who to trust, Luke takes it upon himself to seek out the culprits on his own, even if it means bringing down the entire Skull organisation. After an intriguing set-up and several gleefully overdone initiation ceremonies, the movie quickly descends into ludicrousness and stupidity, maintaining its high level of polished sheen while abandoning all sanity. Car chases, fist fights, mental institutions, hidden videotapes... it all makes no sense. There's a great movie buried within The Skulls that's just begging to be made; an expose of the influence of organisations like The Skulls within society's hierarchy, and how only the most popular and/or corrupt can rise to the top. In fact, by far the most interesting characters are the adults - Senator Ames Levritt (William Petersen) and Litten Mandrake (Craig T. Nelson), long-established members of the society whose various political machinations and manipulation of the judicial system would have made a far more engrossing story. Joshua Jackson, in his first leading role post-Dawson's Creek, is OK, but is far too clean-cut to be truly convincing as a boy from the wrong side of the tracks come good. Much of the supporting cast are charicatures rather than characters, with the exception of the aforementioned Petersen and Nelson, and the scenery-chewing Steve Harris as a detective with an ulterior motive. John Pogue's screenplay has a few neat one-liners and the production values are first rate, but the end result is a frustrating step down from the movie it could have been. Ah, well, at least Cohen finally decided to make a film that doesn't start with the letter D. The partnership of Rob Cohen and Randy Edelman is one of the few true enduring composer/director relationships on Hollywood, and has resulted in such excellent scores as Dragon: The Bruce Lee Story and Dragonheart. Much like the film itself, Edelman's score for The Skulls is polished but shallow, going down the well-travelled road of strings, piano and electronics. The main theme is good, and appropriately moody considering the tone of the film, but sounds just a little bland, with no noticeable musical spark to lift it above the dozens of similar themes written for similar movies. The opening boat race sequence is musically exciting (although visually marred by terribly frenetic editing), and several fight and chase sequences bop along nicely with heavy drum pads and a propulsive thrust, and the finale at the lighthouse provides the most spectacular rendition of the main melody, but on the whole it sounds just... well... average. I usually like Edelman's style, but there are no flourishes at all here, no moments of grace, not even much in the way of excitement. It just ticks along in the background, never really doing much except fill the silence. The Decca album contains 30 minutes of score, plus a handful of pop songs.
BEDAZZLED
DAVID NEWMAN
Would you give the devil your soul for seven wishes? If she looked like Elizabeth Hurley, I certainly would - and so would Brendan Fraser in this light-hearted update of the classic 1967 Peter Cook/Dudley Moore comedy. Fraser plays Elliott Richards, the nerdiest nerd at a computer helpdesk company, who harbours a secret love for his co-worker Alison (Frances O'Connor). Enter the devil - in the guise of the aforementioned Ms Hurley - who offers the hapless Elliot seven wishes in exchange for his soul. Elliot reluctantly agrees and makes his wishes, but on each occasion fails to be specific enough, so his wishes to be rich and powerful, the world's most sensitive man, and a brilliant basketball player don't turn out exactly how he imagined... There are those who will consider Harold Ramis's version of Bedazzled to be nothing short of sacrilegious compared to the cult favourite original, but in truth this is a very funny movie in its own right. Brendan Fraser has matured into an actor of note through films such as Gods and Monsters and The Mummy, but he has always had a gift for comedy, and he is fast turning into a favourite of mine. His everyman Elliot - who tries so hard to be liked that everyone ends up hating him for it - is a wonderful creation, but it is during the various wish vignettes that Fraser really comes into his own. His basketball star is a hilarious mix of every sports cliché invented, his "sensitive man" who bursts into tears every time he sees a sunset is great, and his devastatingly handsome, super suave novelist seems to be perfect - until he gets back to his place. As his foil, Elizabeth Hurley stands around smouldering in a series of scandalous outfits for most of the movie, seemingly doing Joan Collins impressions, and showing a hitherto undiscovered deft touch for comedy. As far as music is concerned, David "Show me the Money" Newman continues on his quest to score films with the highest box office potential, regardless of quality, having been attached to 102 Dalmatians, The Flintstones: Viva Rock Vegas and Nutty Professor II: The Klumps already this year. It's a shame that Newman doesn't take on more challenging assignments, as he is inarguably an extremely talented composer, but whose work goes unnoticed amongst his films' commercial concerns. Bedazzled is a case in point - a truly lovely piece of music which gets completely ignored on the resulting CD, which instead pushes artists such as Johnny Taylor, Banana Oil, Tony Philips and Apollo Four Forty, most of whom have absolutely nothing to do with the movie. It's a real shame that none of Newman's score is on there, because he's written some superb stuff here. There's a gorgeous romantic string theme for Alison, some suspiciously Zorro-esque Latino flourishes for the Colombian drug dealer sequence, and some terrifically sleazy music for the Devil herself. One track which is on the album - the nauseating but side-splitting "Dolphin Song" - was written by director Ramis with Marc Shaiman, and is performed by Fraser on-screen.
THE WAY OF THE GUN
JOE KRAEMER
Slick crime thrillers today are often covered by the blanket term "Tarantinoesque", meaning movies which take amoral young men with a flagrant disregard for morality and a severe case of verbal diarrhoea, and put them in situations where the wisecracks come as quick as the obligatory bullets. Although The Way of the Gun has been described as such, it is not really Tarantinoesque in any way because it is missing one thing: humour. Directed by Christopher McQuarrie (the Oscar-winning screenwriter of The Usual Suspects), The Way of the Gun follows the fortunes of two petty crooks (Ryan Phillippe and Benicio Del Toro) who, on a whim, kidnap a heavily pregnant young woman (Juliette Lewis) in the hope that they will ultimately receive a sizeable ransom. In a terrible bout of sheer bad luck, it transpires that the woman they have kidnapped is a surrogate mother for the new child of ruthless mob boss Chidduck (Scott Wilson), who dispatches two sharply-dressed bodyguards (Taye Diggs and Nicky Katt) and a grizzled "bagman" (James Caan) to bring back his unborn son at any cost - even if it means sacrificing the mother. The whole tone of this movie is one of bitterness and anger - there a few mordant, gallows-like laughs which crop up during some of the more absurd scenes (when was the last time you saw a gunfight taking place around a woman having a caesarean?) - and all the protagonists (with the exception of Juliette Lewis) are amoral, vindictive criminals driven by selfish personal motives. It difficult to like anyone involved, so the level of emotional connection in this film is virtually nil; the fun part is seeing what kind of nasty scrape the duo will get into next, and how low they will sink in order to get out of it. Phillipe (who gained a lot of weight for this role) and Del Toro are cool and calculating in the lead roles, Caan omits a world-weary gravitas as the fixer sent to stop them, and Taye Diggs puts in an icy performance against type as the double-crossing bodyguard. McQuarrie's dialogue is not as sharp as in his classic Usual Suspects script, but this is entirely a different kind of film. Where that movie was intended to confuse and confound the viewer, The Way of the Gun presents undiluted doses of reality and increasing chaos. Joe Kraemer, a young composer from Boston, is in effect making his film music debut with this score, having written mainly for low-budget cinema and TV in the past. His work here looks likely to secure his status amongst the film score fraternity for many years to come. Matching the mood and outlook of the movie, Kraemer's score is dark, violent and moody, built around a recurring motif for timpanis and Spanish guitars. Kraemer's score is almost something Ennio Morricone might have written twenty years ago, making use of a series of unexpected, unconventional, but strangely appropriate percussion items and unusual rhythms. The main title, the odd car-chase sequence, the scene between Parker and Robin in the motel room, and the finale are musical highlights of a cool, slick modern score. Look out for this guy.
THE YARDS
HOWARD SHORE
An urban crime thriller cut from the same cloth as The Godfather and Goodfellas, The Yards tells the familiar tale of a good man dragged into a life of crime by circumstance. It stars the increasingly impressive Mark Wahlberg as Leo Handler, a good kid released from prison after serving two years for a car theft he did not commit, but who did his time because his code of honour prevented him ratting on his buddies. Returning home to New York determined to "go straight", and with an ailing mother (Ellen Burstyn) to look after, Leo's good intentions are shattered when he become sucked into a web of corruption involving his childhood friend Willie (Joaquin Phoenix) and his uncle Frank (James Caan), the head of a major railway contracting company who runs his business with a combination of bribery and sabotage. One night, while out vandalising trains down at the Sunnyside train yards, Leo and Willie inadvertently become involved in the murder of a railway worker and the beating of a cop, the repercussions of which could bring down Frank's business and reach deep into the political hierarchy of City Hall. Wrongly accused of the murder and with no one to turn to, Leo soon finds himself running for his life, betrayed by his family and wanted by the police. Although the set-up is a familiar one, and although many of the characters are from the usual gangster movie stock, the things which elevates The Yards above the usual crime fare are the quality of the performances, and the detailed pacing of the movie as a whole. Director James Gray, who tackled similar subject matter with his last movie Little Odessa, allows proceedings to unfold naturally, letting the deliberate atmosphere take over. The Yards is a quiet movie of meaningful dialogue and hushes voices. There is very little "action" as such - instead, The Yards deals with thoughts and emotions, and does not fall back on car chases or explosions to keep the audience interested. Wahlberg is sullen and serious for most of the movie, revealing a much more adult side to his boyish screen persona. Leo is a man of great honour, but little in the way of common sense; he takes the easy way out and opts for the route to quick money - which ultimately proves to be his downfall. Joaquin Phoenix, James Caan, Ellen Burstyn and Faye Dunaway (playing an archetypal scheming wife) all offer excellent support, but the standout is Charlize Theron as Erica, Leo's cousin and Willie's girlfriend. Sporting an unflattering brunette haircut and panda eye makeup, Erica looks to be a perfect moll-in-the-making, but ultimately provides Leo with the emotional and moral stability he needs, Theron's truthful performance makeing her gradual realisations about the true nature of her family's business more harsh and heart-breaking. Howard Shore's original score is one of his finest. Tonal, fully orchestral, but with a downbeat aspect, Shore's sombre themes score Leo's plight with a great sense of tragedy. There is an almost operatic air of destiny that permeates the entire score, lamenting for the fact that Leo's good intentions are to be thwarted, a victim of circumstance and history. As the movie progresses, Shore's music becomes increasingly moving, climaxing in several mournfully beautiful crescendos that accompany various turning points and events that shape the finale of the film (revealing them would result in writing "spoilers", so I won't). In tone, The Yards is vaguely Nino Rota-ish, but reminds me more of Christopher Young's Murder in the First, especially in the way in which the music romanticises the human spirit. There is a slight hint of the familiar Shore "sound wash", and several moments that use his trademark brass phrasings, but on the whole this is easily one of Shore's most approachable and appreciable dramatic works.
PITCH BLACK
GRAEME REVELL
Pitch Black is a confident, clever, brilliantly-shot science fiction flick that takes puts a new spin on the old "monster movie" cliché. Directed by screenwriter David Twohy and starring Vin Diesel, Radha Mitchell and Cole Hauser, Pitch Black begins with the crash landing of a commercial space transporter on a dry, desolate alien world of perpetual daylight. With the captain dead, the survivors of the crash find they have more problems that merely finding water and shelter - firstly, escaped mass murderer Riddick (Diesel), who has had his eyes surgically altered so he can see in the dark; and secondly, the planets inhabitants: vicious, flying aliens whose only weakness is an aversion to any kind of light. Living in deep caves under the planet's surface, they emerge to hunt only when the planet plunges into darkness - and there's an eclipse due soon. The most striking thing about Pitch Black - other than the wonderfully gruesome H.R. Giger-inspired aliens - is the look of the film. Shot in the arid deserts around Coober Pedy, Australia by cinematographer David Eggby (as he did on the original Mad Max), the first half of the film makes use of various yellow filters to give it an almost whiteout effect, and is optically enhanced so that everything is surrounded by a shimmering heat haze that brings back wonderful memories of the Tatooine sequences from the original Star Wars. Similarly, the planets and suns are gorgeously rendered, especially the stunning eclipse sequence that marks the transitional point of the film. The second half, however, is swathed in darkness and shadow, and makes wonderful use of torches, and different lighting angles that leave the audience wondering along with the protagonists what horrors lurk in the murky periphery. Visual beauty is redundant without a strong plot, though, and director Twohy keeps the pace clicking along at a fair old trot, with several nail-biting action sequences, allowing the audience to play a continual guessing game of "who's gonna get chomped next". The answers are occasionally surprising. The pumped-up, gravel-voiced Vin Diesel is surely a star in the making. He was in Saving Private Ryan, and provided the voice of The Iron Giant, but his presence and charisma in this movie as the archetypal action movie anti-hero Riddick is sure to boost his career further. Graeme Revell, who's had a busy start to the new millennium, scores Pitch Black from a big, thematic standpoint, resulting in one of his best efforts in the genre. Proceedings are dominated by a simple three-note recurring theme for brasses and a massive amount of percussion, both electronic and live. Revell's tumultuous action cues, his liberal use of synths and choir add the necessary level of awe and wonder to the film's beautiful space-scapes. The survivors initial trek across the desert, the "eclipse" sequence, the encounters with the aliens, and the end credits are especially well-scored. Unusually, especially considering the critical and commercial success of the movie, no score was released, making Pitch Black a prime candidate for a promo or a "private release" at some point in the future.
PURELY BELTER
IAN BROUDIE and MICHAEL GIBBS
Eeh, it's grim up north, lad. At least it is according to the various films which are set in locales outside London - from Kes back in the 70s, right up to modern movies such as Brassed Off, Little Voice, Billy Elliot and The Full Monty. Outsiders with no first-hand experience will automatically think of Yorkshire and the North East of England as being crime-ridden, filthy, socially-deprived areas where the most common daytime activities are fighting, stealing, taking drugs and avoiding work - and Purely Belter does nothing to dispel the myth. Directed by Mark Herman from the novel by Jonathan Tulloch, Purely Belter follows the fortunes of two juvenile delinquents, Gerry and Sewell, played by newcomers Chris Beattie and Greg McLane. Coming from broken homes and neither having a father figure in their lives, Gerry and Sewell spend their days cutting school, sniffing glue, and generally causing all kinds of mayhem in their home city of Newcastle-upon-Tyne. The constant factor in their lives is their mutual love of football (soccer), and especially their beloved Newcastle United. Convinced that acquiring a pair of season tickets will change their lives for the better, the pair embark on a series of hair-brained schemes to raise enough money to buy them. However, their childish idealism is continually shattered by the impact of the adult world around them, from Gerry's victimised mother (Charlie Hardwick) and his violent absent father (Tim Healy), to Sewell's senile grandfather (Roy Hudd) and a vindictive teacher (Kevin Whately). Although the two adolescent leads are generally likeable and very convincing, and although the screenplay attempts to add a degree of social commentary into the mix, the one vital thing missing from Purely Belter is comedy. Whereas the likes of Brassed Off and The Full Monty perfectly balanced politics and pathos with a plethora of belly-laughs, Purely Belter is more of a "wry smile" movie. Even the subtle cameo by soccer star Alan Shearer falls a bit flat. Gerry and Sewell, although generally good-hearted lads, spend much of the movie engaging in so much anti-social behaviour, it's difficult to be on their side. The whole point of the movie is that you want them to get their season tickets, but they are such young tearaways you begin to think they should be in clink rather than on the kop. That said, Herman's screenplay does offer a hefty dose of regional in-jokes (although most will go over the heads of US audiences), and the adult performances are good, especially Healy as the Gerry's loathsome dad, and Whately as the teacher from hell. Purely Belter's original music is by composer Michael Gibbs, whose previous form includes movies such as the Hong Kong action classic Hard Boiled and the Robin Williams vehicle Being Human, and Ian Broudie of the British indie band The Lightning Seeds, who is making his film music debut here. There is actually very little of note going on: a couple of whiz-bang synthesised cues (by Broudie) that seek to capture the sense of adventure Gerry and Sewell have during the escapades around Tyneside; and a couple of low-key orchestral interludes (by Gibbs) for the more sensitive aspects of the story. Interestingly, Herman chose to track in two renditions of the "Molly" track from Michael Nyman's Wonderland score as music for the scenes in which young Gerry is reminiscing about his trips to the football. It's perhaps indicative that Nyman's pre-existing work is by far the best, and most noticeable, aspect of the entire soundtrack. If suppose if the temp track ain't broke... A soundtrack on the BMG label, consisting mostly of source music and songs, will be released shortly.
WONDER BOYS
CHRISTOPHER YOUNG
Michael Douglas gives his best screen performance since Wall Street in Wonder Boys, Curtis Hanson's adroit literary drama based on the acclaimed novel by Michael Chabon. Douglas plays Grady Tripp, a dishevelled, pot-smoking English professor at the a University in Pittsburgh, struggling to live up to the promise he showed with his debut novel seven years ago, who starts to panic when his finds out his editor (Robert Downey Jr.) is coming to town to check up on the progress of his new opus. What follows is a comedy-drama of circumstance, as Tripp's day goes from bad to worse by way of a seemingly unending stretch of bad luck, all the while avoiding giving his editor his unfinished novel. His wife leaves him; his already-married girlfriend (Frances McDormand) announces she is pregnant, a situation not helped by the fact that McDormand is the Chancellor of the University, and that her husband the Dean of the English Department; and his student lodger (Katie Holmes) develops an unexpected crush on him. To cap it all, he also finds himself in the company of James Leer (Tobey Maguire), a shy, sullen, introverted student who also possesses a wonderfully fluid, expressive writing style which makes him the envy of his classmates. Drawn together as kindred spirits, Grady and James drift through various escapades (including an episode with a dead dog and a coat that belonged to Marilyn Monroe), and the two unlikely protagonists develop a strong teacher-protégé relationship which, in time honoured tradition, turns out to be as beneficial for the older man as it is for the boy. Michael Douglas the sex symbol takes a back seat to Michael Douglas the actor in Wonder Boys, a film in which he has absolutely no regard for his physical appearance, and is all the better for it. A man afraid of commitment, of failure, and of facing up to problems, Grady Tripp waltzes through life in a marijuana-induced haze, until being woken from his groggy existence by the sober and serious James Leer. I've maintained for a while that Tobey Maguire is the best young actor of his generation, and Wonder Boys is no exception. Maguire is calm and introverted, but who hides a raw talent for writing and an untapped potential underneath his cool veneer. Director Curtis Hanson and cinematographer Dante Spinotti turn the Pennsylvania winter into a series of beautiful, snow-bound landscapes, and the screenplay by Steve Kloves revels in the wonder of the written word. Musically, Wonder Boys is nothing special, with a score by Christopher Young that falls squarely into same mould as Rounders, The Big Kahuna, and his other recent soft jazz scores. A small jazz combo picks away merrily, adding a touch of wry comedy to many of the scenes, while occasionally injecting a touch of cajun/zydeco music into the mix to add in a bit of spice. There's actually quite a bit of controversy over the Wonder Boys soundtrack. A song-only release on the Columbia label, featuring lots of old rocker such as Bob Dylan, Van Morrison, Neil Young, Leonard Cohen and John Lennon, was released to great success back in February 2000. Varese Sarabande then announced that they would be putting out a score-only release of Chris's music, but for some reason they then cancelled it. No-one really knows why - including Chris, but to date the score has still not surfaced.
WHAT LIES BENEATH
ALAN SILVESTRI
Contrary to popular review, I actually quite enjoyed What Lies Beneath, an effectively spooky supernatural thriller from Forrest Gump director Robert Zemeckis. Harrison Ford and Michelle Pfeiffer star as happily married couple Norman and Claire Spencer, who live in a big, rambling house in the Vermont countryside. With her daughter recently gone to college and her husband engrossed in his work, Claire finds herself home alone with little to amuse herself, other than visits from her friend Jody (Diana Scarwid), and spying on her new neighbours Warren and Mary Feur (James Remar and Miranda Otto). It is the latter that piques Claire's interest the most, especially when she becomes convinced that Warren has murdered Mary; a theory seemingly confirmed when she begins to experience ghostly goings-on in the house, and has visions of a terrible spectre reflected in the bath water. However, as Claire begins to delve further into the mystery, she uncovers far more than she ever imagined... Although in no way groundbreaking, What Lies Beneath is a good, old-fashioned chiller with plenty of tension and few scream-stifling shocks to keep the viewer happy. It's all very predictable stuff - family pets leap from hidey-holes, people appear standing behind fridge doors or looking through windows - but Zemeckis, who has always has a soft spot for horror, handles the action perfectly, and cranks up the atmosphere in a manner that even Alfred Hitchcock would have been proud to call his own. A couple of the shock-jumps will have you clinging to the cinema's rafters. Zemeckis even goes as far as to steal camera angles and shot construction from the master (look for the moment where Pfeiffer pulls the shower curtain down; remind you of Janet Leigh, perchance?) Ford, playing against type for the first time, sleepwalks through the first half of the film as the "solid, dependable partner" but shows a whole new side to his persona during the crafty denouement. Pfeiffer, looking more radiant than ever, is convincingly neurotic, and there is great support from Diana Scarwid, who hasn't has this high profile a role since Mommie Dearest. Musically as well as stylistically, What Lies Beneath owes a great debt to Hitchcock, in that Alan Silvestri's score invokes the ghost of Bernard Herrmann. In parts, the Silvestri's work greatly resembles the "Psycho travelling music", with its undulating string lines and stabs, while in others it revisits the same kind of musical frenetisicm as the infamous shower scene. Moments of heavy, horrific dissonance (especially during the bathroom scenes) are tempered by mournful themes in the lowest registers of the string section, action and chase music characterises much of the last twenty minutes, and many of the "shock" moments are accompanied by loud, violent brass stabs. It's an effective score that suites the film well. Click here for a full review of What Lies Beneath.
MEMENTO
DAVID JULYAN
One of the most innovative and interesting thrillers of the year, Christopher Nolan's debut feature Memento is not so much a "whodunit", as a "whydunit". The film opens with its ending, so from the first frame we already know how it's all going to finish: Leonard shoots Teddy in the head. But, in a wonderful moment of cinematic trickery, everything unwinds: blood gushes back into Teddy's head wound, spent cartridges spin back into Leonard's gun, and thereafter everything unfolds in reverse-order, presenting segments in the protagonist's life as a standalone vignettes leading up to the bloody finale, each one concluding in the same way as the previous one began. This wonderful conceit, although seemingly unnecessarily confusing, is actually a brilliant way to tell the story as it forces the audience to think in the same way as the hapless Leonard, making them work just as hard at remembering the clues as he does. You see the problem is that Leonard (Guy Pearce), since the brutal rape and murder of his wife, is unable to form new memories: he remembers perfectly everything up until the murder, but if you talk to him for too long, he'll eventually forget who you are, how the conversation started, and how he got where he is. The one thing Leonard does know, though, is that the man who murdered his wife has the initials "JG", and that he has vowed to track JG down, and kill him. He keeps track of his investigation with vast reams of papers, assorted Polaroids with notes scribbled on them, and has the most important stuff tattooed onto his body. He's in Los Angeles following a new lead, aided by his wisecracking buddy Teddy (Joe Pantoliano), and kind-hearted waitress Natalie (Carrie-Anne Moss). But is everything as it seems? Although it takes some staying power, and a great deal of thought and intellect, Memento is a greatly rewarding cinematic experience. Like other intricate puzzle movies, such as The Usual Suspects, there is a great deal of viewer satisfaction in piecing together all the disparate plot elements as the movie progresses. The "ohhhhh of realisation" factor is high in Memento. Pearce, Pantoliano and Moss are all superb in what is essentially a three-character movie, and the screenplay (by director Nolan and his brother Jonathan) is intelligent, witty, and occasionally very funny - the filmmakers are not averse to making fun of Leonard's plight, notably by way of the running joke about the motel room clerk continually over-charging him, and then confessing, knowing full well that Leonard will promptly forget all about the confession. Music does not play a large role in the fabric of Memento. The score, by newcomer David Julyan, is wholly synthesised, and features mainly in the opening credits and in some of the more low-key, reflective scenes of Leonard desperately trying to piece together the hastily-written clues and fragmented memories. Stylistically, Julyan's score is not too dissimilar to Hans Zimmer's The Thin Red Line, with shifting electronic tones adding an eerie moodiness to Leonard's plight. There's no theme to speak of - more of an ambience, but it works well in context, adding a delicate level of intrigue and emotion to the film without ever really pushing the envelope. A song/score soundtrack was released some six months after the film's opening, combining Julyan's work with songs by Radiohead, Bjork, Paul Oakenfeld, and the David Bowie track "Something in the Air" that plays over the end credits.
BOOK OF SHADOWS: BLAIR WITCH 2
CARTER BURWELL
It's to director Joe Berlinger's infinite credit that he has managed to make Book of Shadows: Blair Witch 2 as interesting as he has. Not so much a sequel, or a remake, or even a rip-off, Book of Shadows is probably best described as a brand new horror-thriller which builds upon the themes and ideas of the original movie. Eager to make a fast buck following the furore that surrounded the release of the film, Burkitsville resident Jeff Donovan (all the characters use the actors' real names) creates "the Blair Witch Tour", which he boasts will re-visit all the locations used in the movie. Along for the inaugural trip are writers Tristen Skylar and Stephen Barker Turner, goth chick Kim Director, and white witch Erica Leerhsen, all of who camp out in the ruins of the house that featured in Blair Witch's finale. Waking the following morning to find their camp site obliterated, Jeff's recording equipment trashed, and with no memory of what happened the night before, the five retreat to Jeff's isolated home to try to piece together what happened, why they are all covered in strange wiccan markings, why they keep having visions of drowned children, and why five fellow campers have been found dead in another part of the woods... For anyone wanting to re-experience the pant-wetting chills of Blair Witch 1, Book of Shadows may prove to be a little disappointing. There is very little in the way of the indescribable tension that the original created; instead, this film has a more ironic, thoughtful outlook. There is gore, and there is sex, but to judge it on the same terms as the first is a probably a little unfair. The screenplay, by Berlinger and Dick Beebe, concentrates more on Blair Witch mythology and the surrounding hysteria than "shock tactics", and the gradual revelations the story provides are actually quite well thought out. And while none of the performances reach the heights of Heather Donohue's debut in the original, the cast are all competent enough, especially Leerhsen as the nature-loving wiccan, and Director as the goth whose outward appearance masks her inner self. As far as score is concerned, Carter Burwell's contribution might well have not been there for all the effect it has. Like Antonio Cora on the original movie, Burwell's remit is to recreate the "sound of nature", and his music rustles, moans and creeps along like something murky emerging from the undergrowth. Metallic bangs, synthesised drones and moments of tense dissonance is the name of the game -the fact that his cohorts in creating Book of Shadows are people named "gman" and SPLaTTeRCell" makes probably the biggest statement about that. A whole album, on Milan, is available of Burwell's score full of nothingness; accompanying it is a rock/metal tie-in which features tracks by Godhead, Rob Zombie, Marilyn Manson, Elastica and others. Just one thing remains unanswered though... what is the Book of Shadows?
SPACE COWBOYS
LENNIE NIEHAUS
This film should really be called "old farts in space". Clint Eastwood, having never before ventured beyond the confines of the planet in fifty years, is America's newest astronaut hero, at the ripe old age of 70. He directs, produces and stars in Space Cowboys, a likeable, funny, engrossing science fiction adventure obviously inspired by the story of John Glenn, about four ageing former air force test pilots (Eastwood, Tommy Lee Jones, Donald Sutherland and James Garner) who are called out of retirement by NASA. A Russian satellite is in a decaying orbit around the Earth, and will ultimately burn up in the atmosphere unless the antiquated computer system - designed by Eastwood - can be repaired. Eastwood and his buddies, who were all passed over for the space race in favour of a monkey named Mary Ann, agree to help - but only if the four are allowed to go into space and do the job themselves. However, the problems don't really start until they get up there... The first hour of Space Cowboys is pretty much devoted entirely to character development: firstly, in reuniting the former colleagues from their disparate new lives (Jones is a cowboy crop duster in Utah, Sutherland a womanising rollercoaster designer, Garner a Baptist minister), and secondly in training them for their trip into space. Eastwood pokes fun at his own image, allowing he and his geriatric buddies to be shown huffing and puffing under the strain of NASA's physical regime. Eastwood has always delighted in lampooning himself and his persona - Every Which Way But Loose being a prime example - and Space Cowboys is an affectionate continuation of that theme. When the action moves to the Russian satellite, the plot and pacing quickens, and it turns into a taut adventure not too dissimilar to Apollo 13 in tone and content. The supporting cast is good, especially James Cromwell as the slimy director of operations, Marcia Gay Harden as Jones's love interest, and William Devane as the tough NASA flight director. Similarly, Clint's regular team of collaborators (DP Jack Green, art director Henry Bumstead and editor Joel Cox) prove that familiarity does not always breed contempt. Lennie Niehaus, Eastwood's long-time musical collaborator, has written one of his best scores for this movie. Basically, his music falls into four broad categories: heroic spectacle music that accompanies the successes and failures of the crew of the Daedelus, complete with a full-voiced choir; John Paul Sousa style patriotic marches that accentuate the all-American flag-waving aspect of the story; electronically enhanced action music; and beautiful other-worldly textures and ambiences that accentuate the eerie beauty of space. The thematic cornerstone is, as usual, an Eastwood original melody. 'Espacio', a generally gentle and sentimental piece, is performed in full twice: over the opening credits on a solo acoustic guitar, and during the excellent end credits sequence for solo piano and strings. In fact, the End Credits provide Niehaus with one of the best showcases for his music of his entire career, a 6-minute block of unbroken music which proves that he is a composer of note. It's just a shame that, as usual, none if his work appears on the CD, which is given over instead to songs, with Willie Nelson, Joshua Redman and Brad Mehldau taking centre stage.
LOVE & SEX
BILLY WHITE ACRE and PIERPAOLO TIANO
If Woody Allen had been female, Love & Sex is the kind of movie he would have made - it's a low-key, very truthful and extremely funny look at the nature of relationships, from the point of view of a seemingly successful woman whose personal life in no way mirrors her professional persona. Asked to write an article for the magazine she works for, journalist Kate Welles (Famke Janssen) reminisces over the men she has known over the last twenty years. Although her conquests included French teacher Gerard (Rob Knepper), adulterer Eric (Noah Emmerich), momma's boy Richard (Vincent Ventresca), basketball star Jerome (Elimu Nelson) and B-movie actor Joey (Josh Hopkins), Kate realises that her true soulmate was artist Adam Levy (Jon Favreau), a warm and sensitive soul with a surprisingly disturbing and graphic artistic side, whose love, support and friendship throughout her personal trials and tribulations has been the cornerstone of her life. As movies go, Love & Sex is an enjoyable diversion, with both Janssen and Favreau giving likeable, natural performances that are, to some extent, against type for both actors. Janssen, who was so memorable as the femme fatale Bond girl in Goldeneye and the sexy scientist Jean Grey in X-Men, is still as attractive as ever, but displays a much more warm and human side here. She's far from perfect, and she knows it. She's just trying to make the best of life, along with the rest of us. Jon Favreau, who is regularly cast as a "big lug" in films like Swingers and Very Bad Things, is funny, affectionate, intelligent and just a little kooky as artist Adam. His genial, goofy, but genuinely romantic performance is an ego boost for all the world's big lugs, who may not be matinee idols, but still have a lot to offer a woman. Director Valerie Breiman peppers her screenplay both with witty one-liners and genuinely emotional moments, and has a wonderful way with art direction - the apartments of Kate's various beaus are wonderful physical representations of the men who own them. Certainly not blockbuster material, but entertaining nonetheless. The names Billy White Acre and Pierpaolo Tiano are hardly household, even in the film music circle. After their efforts on Love & Sex, I can't see them ever becoming so either. Although their work is appropriate enough, it's just so underwhelming as to almost become almost redundant. Basically, White Acre and Tiano's entire contribution to the film consists of a series of lively, upbeat solo guitar performances, a single, solitary solo piano. Light, gently romantic, and generally pleasant to listen to, but totally and utterly nondescript - if the film had not had this score, it would have been no better or worse. Breiman's choice of songs are much more of note: the soundtrack, on the RCA label, includes selections by guitarist Heitor Pereira, Phil Roy, Eddie Reader, Marie Frank, Live and Velvet Belly's "Easy", which plays over the end credits.
BILLY ELLIOT
STEPHEN WARBECK
Like Brassed Off! And The Full Monty, Billy Elliot is a feelgood wish-fulfilling comedy-drama with social and political overtones. Set in England's north-east during the coal miner's strike which almost crippled the country in 1984, the film stars débutante Jamie Bell as the eponymous Billy, a precocious 11-year old from a low-earning working class family. While his father Jackie (Gary Lewis) and brother Tony (Jamie Draven) are manning the picket line down at the local pit, young Billy is supposed to be attending the local youth club for boxing lessons. Unfortunately, Billy shows absolutely no aptitude for pugilism, but finds himself developing an unexpected interest in the ballet class being run in the next room by the uncompromising Mrs Wilkinson (Julie Walters). As time progresses, the talented Billy finds himself being put forward for an audition for the Royal Ballet School, despite the constant violent clashes with the police and "scab" miners, the breadline poverty endured by the Elliot family, and the extreme disapproval of his father, who sees Billy's fascination with dance as a shameful smear on his, and his son's masculinity. As a movie experience, Billy Elliot is hard to beat, combining a quartet of winning performances and a compelling rags-to-riches storyline with some vibrant dance numbers and a whole lot of heart. But theatre director Stephen Daldry and screenwriter Lee Hall also manage to inject a whole load of social and political issues into the proceedings to give it something of an edge. Jamie Bell, as Billy, is a revelation, and gives the best child performance since Haley Joel Osment in The Sixth Sense. A wonderful combination of childhood innocence and teenage awkwardness in a very adult world, Bell's Billy sees dance as his way out of his less than happy family life. He's totally convincing, very honest, and on more than one occasion moves you to tears. Similarly, child actors Stuart Wells and Nicola Blackwell as Billy's best friend Michael and would-be girlfriend Debbie, give equally memorable performances. Gary Lewis and Jamie Draven share the film's most affecting scene; having finally accepted Billy's talent for dance, Jackie reluctantly swallows his pride and joins his fellow "scabs" in crossing a violent picket line, desperate to raise money to fund his son's trip to London. The subsequent emotional confrontation between father and eldest son amongst the slagheaps of County Durham is about as potent as it gets. Billy Elliot is musically diverse, featuring everything from T-Rex to Tchaikovsky on the soundtrack. As the film begins, Billy dances energetically to his brother's record collection, with classic songs such as "Cosmic Dancer", "Get it On", "I Love To Boogie", "Children of the Revolution" and The Jam's "Town Called Malice", before erupting into a sublime rendition of Swan Lake as Billy's appreciation of the art for develops - accompanying the equally balletic sight of a drawbridge gracefully opening. For the first half an hour, composer Stephen Warbeck has virtually nothing to do, but as the more "classical" elements of the film come into play, so does the score. The centrepiece is the five-minute symphonic dance extravaganza that Billy performs, full of energy, rapid rhythms and glorious crescendos. This apart, Warbeck's score is understated, relying mainly on a series of piano solos and quiet orchestral interludes to effectively convey the emotions. The soundtrack for Billy Elliot, on Polydor, features none of Warbeck's score, concentrating mainly on 70's glam rock and 80s new romantics (T-Rex, The Jam, The Style Council) with new tracks by Boyzone's Stephen Gateley and Eagle Eye Cherry.
HOLLOW MAN
JERRY GOLDSMITH
Paul Verhoeven's take on the invisible man story is an enjoyable piece of Hollywood hokum, filled to the brim with the Dutch director's usual catalogue of sex, gore and science. Kevin Bacon stars as Dr Sebastian Caine, a brilliant scientist working on a top-secret FBI invisibility project. Whist making things invisible doesn't prove too tricky Sebastian and his team, bringing them back is inherently more difficult - until a breakthrough results in a successful experiment on a gorilla named Isabelle. Tricking his benefactors into giving him more time, Sebastian moves on to the next stage of the project - human testing - and, despite the protestations of his staff, including Sebastian's former girlfriend Elisabeth Shue, and her new beau Josh Brolin, uses the formula on himself. Despite a few teething troubles, the project is actually a success, until the time comes to bring Sebastian back. It is only at that point does Sebastian decide he doesn't want to give up his new status as a "hollow man", and will do anything to make sure he has it. After an intriguing first hour, during which the scientific and ethical implications of invisibility are intelligently explored, Hollow Man suddenly becomes a slash and kill stalker picture during its final third, undermining most of what the film's early scenes were trying to achieve. In terms of visual effects, Hollow Man is nothing short of sensational, with the three "quantum phase shift" sequences coming across as virtuoso set pieces. During these scenes, characters literally disappear and re-appear before our eyes, layer by layer: skin, muscle, tissue, bone... the net result is fascinating, strangely beautiful imagery that reveals the innermost workings of the human body at its most basic level. Similarly, the invisible Kevin Bacon is a triumphant use of green-screen technology, and should get an Oscar nod next may. The acting is so-so at best: Bacon is effectively creepy in a role that plays very much against type, but between them Shue and Brolin contain more wood than a timber yard, and the other scientists are stock-in-trade generic supporting roles. Musically, Hollow Man has surprisingly little to write home about, especially considering that the score is by Jerry Goldsmith. The opening titles, in which scientific formulae swirl about the screen and transform into cast and crew names, is effectively creepy, and is the score's one standout moment. Goldsmith scores it with a variation of his Basic Instinct style, with an icily beautiful string theme backed by swirling synthesised tones, creating a distinct sense of unease. The rest of the time, though, Goldsmith is content to pump out generic action cue after generic action cue, with the whole orchestra rampaging in time along with the see-through scientist. At times, it is difficult to discern exactly what is going on underneath all the shouting and the sound effects, but Goldsmith undoubtedly lends the action sequences a propulsive motion and an exciting edge through his music without pushing the envelope of even really breaking sweat. Jerry can do this sort of thing in his sleep. Click here for a full review of Hollow Man.
O BROTHER, WHERE ART THOU?
T-BONE BURNETT and CARTER BURWELL
Is it just me, or do the Coen Brothers just get weirder and weirder? After finally cracking the box office with the magnificent Fargo, their last film - The Big Lebowski - returned to the surreal land of their earlier features, and their latest one (titled after the film Joel McCrea wanted to make in Preston Sturges' "Sullivan's Travels") inhabits some sort of stylistic limboland - not as peculiar as Lebowski, but nowhere near as satisfying as their Oscar-winning masterpiece. Loosely adapted from Homer's Odyssey, O Brother stars George Clooney, John Turturro and Tim Blake Nelson as three escaped convicts travelling across America's Depression-hit deep south on the promise of sharing some "treasure" that Clooney has buried near his farm in Mississippi. As the trio make their slow and sometimes painful way across the vast state, they become involved in a series of inexplicable (and downright strange) escapades. They record a country and western single under the moniker The Soggy Bottom Boys, adopt a black guitarist (Chris Thomas King) who has sold his soul to the devil, are seduced by three beautiful sirens who turn one of them into a horny toad, meet up with famed bank robber George Babyface Nelson (Mike Badalucco), are robbed by a crooked one-eyed bible salesman (John Goodman) mixed up with the Ku Klux Klan, and inadvertently affect the result of the state elections between the incumbent governor (Charles Durning) and his idealistic opponent Homer (Wayne Duvall). Add into all this the fact that Clooney has an almost pathological obsession with the state of his hair, uses a foul-smelling treatment called Dapper Dan, and at one stage is offered a gopher on a stick, this is undoubtedly oddball entertainment at its oddest. There is virtually no score in O Brother, Where Art Thou?, but it has one of the richest and best-judged soundtracks of any film in recent memory. Music producer T-Bone Burnett has put together a catalogue of songs which depict perfectly the musical preferences and homespun sensibilities of America's Deep South during that period in history. Bluegrass, country, Negro spirituals, Baptist hymns, gospel, it's all in there, performed both on screen and used as "score". Several moments remain lodged in the memory as examples of how, when used correctly, source music works wonderfully well in a film. The opening song, "Big Rock Candy Mountain" by Harry McLintock, has lyrics which only make sense if you listen real close. The glorious hymn "Down To The River To Pray" is used to sensational effect in a scene where you aren't sure if what you're seeing is real or a dream, and the scene in which the three sirens croon soothingly beautiful tones into the prisoners' ears is wonderful, and I only hope someone uses that seduction technique on me one day. However, the best is undoubtedly the absurdly catchy "I Am A Man of Constant Sorrow", the hit record by The Soggy Bottom Boys, which is performed several times in full on screen, and which would get my vote for an Oscar nomination if it weren't based on a traditional folk melody. Carter Burwell's contribution to the film is minimal at best (he is credited merely with "additional music"). All I spotted was one transitional cue that features some low-key string stylings. Needless to say, the Universal Records soundtrack is given over exclusively to songs.
KEEPING THE FAITH
ELMER BERNSTEIN
Have you heard the one about the rabbi and the priest? Okay, so it sounds like an old joke, but the ultra-successful actor Edward Norton has chosen to make his feature directing debut a film that has the old religious chestnut as its starting point. In a role completely at odds with his screen personas in Primal Fear, American History X and Fight Club, Norton plays Brian Finn, a sweet Catholic priest from New York City who is best friends with Jake Schram (Ben Stiller), a Jewish rabbi. As children, the two had a third member of their group: Anna Riley (Jenna Elfman), a tomboy who Ben describes as "a combination of Johnny Quest and Tatum O'Neal". Now, a twenty years after Anna's family moved away to live in San Francisco, Anna returns to the big apple as a successful workaholic businesswoman, and decides to look up her childhood buddies. And so the wheels are set in motion as the two lovelorn men of God - Brian is forbidden to have a wife, while Jake is desperate to find one to appease his paritioners - reinstigate their friendship. However, the holy triumvirate find that, in their twenty years or so of being apart, the nature of their feelings for each other have altered somewhat, and both men find themselves falling for Anna's charms. Although Keeping the Faith does purport to be a lightweight romantic comedy, it does contain its fair share of poignant and truthful moments that lifts it above most of its genre contemporaries. For starters, the friendship between Brian and Jake is the ultimate advertisement for successful multi-faith relationships. One may be Christian, and the other Jewish, but their respective forms of worship have nothing to do with the way they regard each other. Following on from this, writer Stuart Blumberg also manages to work in a few sermon scenes in which both leading men spout sensible religious pathos to their respective congregations that many fanatics would do well to heed. Norton and Stiller are both convincing in their roles; goofy pals, attentive listeners, lovers. But the standout for me is Jenna Elfman, in her first major international role since Dharma and Greg. She makes Anna everyone's dream partner: she's beautiful, stylish, intelligent, works hard, plays very hard, and has a pager attached to her inner thigh which is set to vibrate. Yowza! Elmer Bernstein, who has had a quiet start to the new millennium, contributes an upbeat, tender jazz score to accompany the antics of Brian and Jake. There is no one standout moment to define Bernstein's work; rather, his music is part of the fabric of the film, lending it a sense of time and place, and a certain sentimentality, without ever truly calling attention to itself. The music is performed in the main by a jazz combo offset by a bed of strings, with special solos for saxophone, trumpet, and a gorgeous loungey piano that sounds more like Bacharach than Bernstein. A subtle but heartfelt love theme and a couple of knockabout comedy moments that accompany the hapless holy men as they embark on their careers (Jake faints at a bris; Brian sets himself on fire with the incense) round out Elmer's contribution. It's low key and understated, but very attractive and appropriate in context. The album, on Hollywood Records, includes 11 tracks of Bernstein's score along with songs by Tom Waits, Elliot Smith, Wild Cherry and Cheryl Lynn.
THE CELL
HOWARD SHORE
It's a strange contradiction to say that a film is both horrific and beautiful, but Tarsem Singh's film debut The Cell is just that. Tarsem creates a world in The Cell that is both intriguing and repulsive; strangely attractive, but imbued with a twisted, almost hallucinatory mentality that you want to shut your eyes and keep on watching at the same time. Jennifer Lopez stars as Dr Catherine Deane, one of a team of scientists who have perfected a medical system whereby one can enter the mind of a comatose person and interact with their subconscious. When serial killer Carl Stargher (Vincent D'Onofrio) is finally captured by FBI agent Peter Novak (Vince Vaughn), they find that he has slipped into a deep coma from which he will not recover; the problem being that Stargher has recently kidnapped a ninth victim, and placed her in a glass cell that will automatically fill with water after forty hours. And only he knows the location. Enter Dr Deane, who must use hew new scientific process to delve deep into the psyche of the killer and extract the information before it is too late - and before she loses her sanity. As intriguing as the premise of The Cell is, the thing that will linger the longest in the memory is the design. It is, in a word, stunning. DP Paul Laufer, art director Tom Foden and costume designer Eiko Ishioka have all surpassed themselves on this movie, creating scene after scene of some of the most imaginative imagery seen on the screen for a long time. Stargher's world is a combination of Dante and Escher, Botticelli and Marilyn Manson, with a touch of Damien Hirst and the Marquis de Sade thrown in for good measure. D'Onofrio and Lopez are given the opportunity to immerse themselves in characters which change both look and attitude seemingly from moment to moment - from beatific nun to knife-wielding dominatrix, from frightened introvert to demonic monstrosity. 100-foot magenta capes, ornate gilded collars and flamboyant flowing robes are the dress code in the surreal fantasy world of the comatose killer. Debut screenwriter Mark Protosevich's ideas are good, if a little grotesque, but do not probe the same intellectual depths as, say, The Silence of the Lambs of Se7en. We get plenty of insights into possible reasons why Stargher turned out the way he did, but many of the revelations are familiar, and serve only as a plot structure for Tarsem to hang his visual baubles upon. Performance-wise, there is very little to be excited about, with the exception of the always good D'Onofrio, who provides Stargher with a tangible human centre to his inhumanity. Musically, The Cell seems to mimic the rest of the film's sensibility, by being both horrific and beautiful in equal measure. Like Mychael Danna on 8MM, Howard Shore makes use of the dissonant sub-Saharan sounds of The Master Musicians of Jajouka to typify the subculture of Stargher's world, and combines them with the droning textures of a standard symphony orchestra to create a palette which is both familiar and alien. The opening scene, of Lopez riding horseback across the desert, is a musical collage of intense proportions, the ethnic ensemble and the brass of the orchestra creating a mood of incredible intensity and volume. There is very little convention in the score; everything Shore does seems to have been expressly designed to disorientate and (in some cases) disturb the viewer; and while Shore is more than capable of writing a pretty melody, it is this kind of avant-garde music at which he excels. The orchestra and the Master Musicians blast out cue after cue of horrific, but highly specific "organised chaos" throughout the score; it's as startling as the imagery, and suits the movie perfectly. Only the finale offers anything remotely upbeat, but by then you're so overwhelmed to notice. Click here for a full review of The Cell.
SHAFT
DAVID ARNOLD
The plot of Shaft, John Singleton's update/remake/sequel of the classic 1971 blaxploitation pic, is unbelievably simple. Walter Wade (Christian Bale), the arrogantly racist son of a rich white industrialist, murders an innocent black man (Mekhi Phifer) outside a New York bar, unaware that the whole thing has been witnessed by waitress Diane Palmieri (Toni Collette). Enter maverick cop John Shaft (Samuel L. Jackson, playing the nephew of the original private dick), who loses his cool and promptly breaks Wade's nose with a single punch. Released on a technicality, Wade skips bail to Europe, allowing the petrified waitress to go into hiding, with Shaft vowing to see the killer brought to justice no matter how long it takes. Two years later, Wade resurfaces, and despite being promptly arrested, manages to locate the waitress and hire local crime boss Peoples Hernandez (Jeffrey Wright) to have her dispatched, and therefore unable to testify. Of course, Wade doesn't count on the tenacity of Shaft, who makes it his personal business to stop Peoples, protect the waitress, and see that Wade goes down once and for all. Shaft is a film all about style and panache. Like his predecessor, Samuel L. Jackson's Shaft symbolises modern cool. With his pencil-thin goatee, designer shades, array of interesting headgear, and vast leather coat billowing in the breeze, Jackson looks every inch the maverick cop. It's a testament to Jackson's talent as an actor, that he imbues Shaft with a sense of morality and decency - as he says in the trailer, he might take you down, but he'll never let you down. Jackson, more than many of his contemporaries, has an awesome screen presence. He dominates every scene in which he appears, be he comforting terrified witnesses, quietly threatening the gangland bosses, gunning down henchmen, or flirting with waitresses. Shaft's strong points are its performances and dialogue. Singleton's directorial style is realistic and not particularly flashy, but the screenplay littered with quickfire - and highly profane - one-liners. Similarly, the support from Bale, Colette, rap star Busta Rhymes, and the menacing, explosive Jeffrey Wright is top notch, and watch out for cameos by Gordon Parks, Richard Roundtree and Isaac Hayes. Hayes, of course, plays a major part in the success of Shaft through his near-legendary theme. David Arnold, writing the new original score, wisely re-uses Hayes' style throughout. One of David Arnold's instructions from director Singleton was "don't mess with the theme", so he opens the movie with the familiar, satisfyingly cool thukka-thukka of the electric guitar, and Isaac himself crooning away those iconic lyrics. Arnold handles the Shaft theme in the same way as he does the 007 theme in the Bond movies: he uses it sparingly for the most part, but really goes for broke when it does appear, maximising its impact. Arnold's main contribution to the underscore is to make it "funky", and he does so with aplomb, capturing the essence of the 1970s vibe, but updating it for the new millennium. There's a wonderfully evocative descending motif for bass flutes that regularly accompanies Shaft's detective work, and some cool harmonics that combine strings and punchy brasses with the aforementioned electric guitar. The action cues are more frenetic, a variation on the propulsive techno beats from Tomorrow Never Dies, but with the same feeling of breathless motion. A song album is already available, featuring mainly rap and R&B tracks, but an album of Arnold's score will be released by Hollywood Records in October.
NURSE BETTY
ROLFE KENT
Taking a break from the cruelly acidic interpersonal relationships that dominated his previous films, director Neil La Bute's Nurse Betty is a sweet-natured, wholesome, slightly surreal fable about life imitating art, and the way in which people embrace fantasies as a means of escapism. Renee Zellweger plays Betty Sizemore, a waitress in a dead-end Kansas town whose life revolves around her daily dose of the hospital soap opera "A Reason to Love", and her infatuation with its heartthrob star Dr David Revell (Greg Kinnear). When Betty witnesses her lowlife husband Del (Aaron Eckhart) being murdered by two contract killers (Morgan Freeman and Chris Rock), the shock sends her into a "fugue state", in which she believes that the cast of the soap are real, and that Dr Revell is her former fiancé. Bent on rekindling her imaginary relationship, Betty heads for Los Angeles, unaware that the hitmen are also hot on her trail... As odd as the plot of Nurse Betty sounds, it actually all comes together to make a genuinely warm, funny, and greatly enjoyable motion picture. Zellweger, in her best performance since Jerry Maguire, endows Betty with an endearing gullibility, coupled with an incredible dogged streak that somehow results in her achieving her dreams. The scenes in which she "reminisces" with an increasingly bemused Greg Kinnear are priceless - whereas Betty believes the whole thing to be real, Kinnear takes Betty's presence to be nothing more than an elaborate audition for the show. Freeman and Rock are for the most part deadly serious throughout - their constant bickering tempered only by moments of extremely graphic violence. However, Freeman becomes an unlikely kindred spirit for Betty, a man who uses a fantasy figure as a means of salvaging his soul - except in this case, the fantasy figure is not a TV doctor but Betty herself. There is not a bad performance in the entire movie, with Zellweger and Freeman the obvious standouts. La Bute's direction is flashier and more obviously "cinematic" than before, and John Richards' screenplay is packed with one-liners and magnificent comic timing, as well as containing a genuine sense of pathos and affection for his characters. I can't fault any of it. This could also be the movie that finally launches Rolfe Kent's international career, as it is easily one of the best comedy scores of the year - beautiful AND intelligent. The beauty in the score is immediately obvious, deriving mainly from the gorgeous main theme which gets several rapturous renditions, notably when Betty first leaves Kansas and heads off across America. Stylistically, it takes its lead from American Beauty, especially in the way Kent uses the same kind of off-kilter percussion section as Newman. Where Kent's score is superior, though, is in the fact that he regularly combines it with a huge string session, adding a sense of the romantic and the nostalgic to the inherent quirkiness. The intelligence of the score is more to do with the fact that, in many places, the score is vastly overblown - but this is not a criticism. Whereas it would otherwise be misconstrued as a case of over-scoring on Kent's part, I personally feel that it makes perfect sense here. Like Burkhard Dallwitz on The Truman Show, Kent is not actually scoring the movie, but the soap opera going on inside Betty's head: when Betty and David kiss the for first time, the music rises to the kind of emotional crescendo one would come to expect from a daytime TV show, and which Betty would expect to hear in her unbalanced mental state. It's just another stroke of genius in a film touched by many already. Varese will be releasing a CD later in the year, coupling Kent's score with a series of songs by (among others) Pink Martini, Ann-Margret, Della Reese and Ricky Nelson. Click here for a full review of Nurse Betty.
THE LUZHIN DEFENCE
ALEXANDRE DESPLAT
Unless you are a fan of slow-moving romantic dramas, the actors John Turturro and Emily Watson, or movies about chess, The Luzhin Defence is likely to be a terminal bore. Fortunately, all four of the above criteria appeal to me on a cinematic level, and I found director Marleen Gorris's beautiful ode to the madness of love and chess to be a remarkable film. Turturro stars as chess grand master Alexander Luzhin, an introverted, dishevelled genius who arrives at the Italian resort of Como in the 1930s to play a championship match against his great rival Turati (Fabio Sartor). While at the resort, Luzhin meets and instantly falls in love with beautiful Russian socialite Natalia Katkov (Watson), much to the horror of her self-aggrandising mother (Geraldine James), and for a few days the self-absorbed Luzhin seems to have his life in order, and plays wonderfully in the tournament. Unfortunately, the re-emergence of a shadowy figure brings back tortured memories from Luzhin's childhood and, combined with the very new sensations of love, the delicate mental balance inside the mind of the genius becomes more and more unstable. Gorris, who won an Oscar for the Dutch comedy Antonia's Line, has created a film which, through its look and feel, seems to belong to another time. Bernard Lutic's cinematography is simply amazing, especially when he captures the damp, heavy demeanour of Italian mornings, and the misty, saturated atmosphere that clings to the lake and the mountains. Similarly, the authentic period production design is sensational, with the lavishness of the resort hotel and the old-world charm of the nearby town lending an air or unquestioned genuineness. The performances, on the whole, are excellent, but special note should go to John Turturro, whose depiction of Luzhin is a collision of intense intelligence, physical awkwardness, barely hidden emotion and a complete lack of social skills. With his rumpled suit, tousled hair and endless burning cigarettes, Turturro's Luzhin reminded me (and forgive me for saying this) of the late, great Bernard Herrmann; if ever a movie was to be made of his life, Turturro would get my vote as the man to play him. The name of French composer Alexandre Desplat will be unfamiliar to many, despite him having composed music for several critically acclaimed domestic movies during the last decade. His score for The Luzhin Defence is sure to bring him many new admirers, especially those with an affinity for the work of other European luminaries, especially Georges Delerue. Desplat's music is beautiful and lyrical, but never forced, content instead to weave a delicate fabric of light piano melodies and subtle washes of strings, conveying the unlikely passion of the central romance. The lightness of touch and general air of good cheer is tempered by several moments of great drama but, if anything, Desplat's music is at times a little too understated - several scenes spring to mind which might have benefited from a slightly more powerful musical accompaniment. Nevertheless, there are still several highlights: as Natalia and her mother arrive at Lake Como on the boat; when the young Alexander leaves his parents to travel with Valentinov; and when Valentinov abandons Alexander in an unfamiliar city. Similarly, the magnificent waltz from Dmitri Shostakovich's Jazz Suite No.2 is used to superb effect during the intercut scene of Alexander and Natalia making love, and Alexander playing the best chess of his life. Click here for a full review of The Luzhin Defence.
SNATCH
JOHN MURPHY
Somehow, despite having made just one movie, British director Guy Ritchie is one of the hot new talents in town, and his new movie picks up where the critically acclaimed Lock Stock and Two Smoking Barrels left off. I think I was one of the only people left totally bemused by the success of Lock Stock. An over-hyped, over-exposed Cockney crime thriller with allusions to Get Carter, the movie left me cold, and despite the technical excellence, labyrinthine narrative and moments of absurdist humour, I felt that so much was lacking. So what kind film does Ritchie make as his follow up? A cockney crime thriller with allusions to Get Carter. Snatch features a cast of British heavyweights (including Jason Statham, Vinnie Jones, Alan Ford and Mike Reid) alongside a genuine Hollywood superstar (Brad Pitt) and several familiar character actors (Dennis Farina and Rade Sherbedgia) in a convoluted tale of international diamond smuggling, illegal boxing matches, gangsters, gunrunners, and all manner of murder and mayhem. Plot-wise, the film actually makes much more sense than Lock Stock did, and is a genuine improvement over its predecessor in virtually every respect. The eccentricities of the characters are toned down somewhat, although much of the flamboyant dress sense, language and humour remains intact, and the performances by the much more experienced cast are good. Alan Ford is especially worth mentioning as the unrelentingly evil crime boss Brick Top who feeds his victims to his prize-winning pigs, former soccer star Vinnie Jones continues to impress as the debonair hitman Bullet Tooth Tony, and Pitt undergoes a massive role-reversal as a gypsy bare-knuckle fighter with an unintelligible accent. Having finally made a break from his long-term writing partner David A. Hughes, John Murphy's first solo score is an eclectic, sprightly affair, taking leitmotivic musical inspiration from the rich ethnic textures of each character's backgrounds. There's funky stand-up bass jazz for the boxing promoter Turkish and his hapless sidekick Tommy; an undulating flute motif for Boris the Blade; some cool ska and reggae riffs for the clueless pawn-shop owners Vinny and Sol; and a lively pastiche combining elements of Irish and Hungarian folk music for One-Punch Mickey and the local "pikies". The whole thing is topped off by a constant, driving electronic rhythm that edges the film forwards. The CD, however, is a different matter, featuring just one Murphy cut that is totally swamped by a disk full of popular Britpop artistes whose sole contribution to the film is to shift units and boost profits. The Specials, Massive Attack, Mirwais, Madonna, Oasis and The Stranglers get top billing instead.
TITUS
ELLIOT GOLDENTHAL
Considering the amount of films I see each year, very few of them render me speechless. Murder In The First did, American History X did, and so did Julie Taymor's Titus. An undisputed masterpiece of design, concept, and flawless performance, Titus is a film so visually stimulating and emotionally overpowering you emerge from the cinema reeling. Taymor re-creates and re-sets Shakespeare's bloody vision in an ambiguous timeframe, where Romans ride around on motorbikes and play video games, and the Emperor addresses his subjects via a PA system. Anthony Hopkins stars as the eponymous Titus Andronicus, a decorated Roman soldier who returns victorious from battle against the Goths with five prisoners: Tamora, the Goth Queen (Jessica Lange), her three sons (Jonathan Rhys Meyers, Matthew Rhys and Raz Degan) and her Moorish manservant Aaron (Harry Lennix). After one of her sons is murdered by Titus in a ritual sacrifice, Tamora and her kin swear revenge - and conspire to carry out their oath in the most violent ways imaginable. The opportunity for retribution presents itself when the new Emperor Saturninus (Alan Cumming) has his proposal of marriage rejected by Titus' daughter Lavinia (Laura Fraser), and in an act of spite, makes Tamora his Queen. Titus Andronicus is one of Shakespeare's least well-known plays, so to reveal any more of the story's twists and turns would spoil the impact for those who have not seen it - suffice to say that it has more than its fair share of gore, death, sex, deceit and tragedy. In the hands of Taymor, this version of Titus is not for the weak of heart or stomach. Virtually the entire cast is impeccable in their roles - none are heroes or villains in the traditional sense of the word, in that they all carry out their acts through sheer vengeance. Harry Lennix is especially impressive as the unremittingly evil Aaron, while Hopkins occasionally revisits Hannibal Lector territory during some of Titus's more tormented moments. As if being bludgeoned by all these heightened emotions wasn't enough, Taymor's aural and visual style is equally startling - the hallucinatory "penny arcade" sequences, the opulence of Dante Ferretti's production design, Milena Canonero's eye-popping metal and leather costumes, and the skewed camera angles of Luciano Tovoli's photography should all have been better recognised. The scene in which Marcus discovers Lavinia post-rape in the swamp will remain seared in my memory forever. Musically, Titus is just as chaotic and overpowering as the film it accompanies. It is also, by a million miles, the best thing Elliot Goldenthal has ever written. By mixing the large forces of the orchestra with unexpected, but oddly appropriate, moments of bubbling boogie-woogie jazz, Goldenthal successfully conveys the film's fractured sense of time and place, while still delivering a shattering emotional punch to go with the imagery. The whole thing opens with an immense choral piece that accompanies the triumphant return of Titus to Rome, with legions of soldiers marching in unison to Goldenthal's war drums. Conversely, the astonishing finale sees the New Yorker at his most lyrical, with a bitterly beautiful elegy that dominates the aftermath of the bloody climax. In between, there are several moments of great power, notably the action cue that accompanies the shooting of the arrows into Saturninus's spa; Titus's hugely symbolic speech at the crossroads; and Aaron's plea in the face of imminent death at the hands of Lucius and the Goth army. How this film did not sweep the board at the Oscars is a mystery. It's by no means guerrilla film-making, but the level of invention and intelligence invested in its creation belies its studio backing. This is what happens when a visionary director allows a composer the freedom to express himself. Genius. Click here for a full review of Titus.
GOSSIP
GRAEME REVELL
If the pen is mightier than the sword, then the spoken word must be mightier still: at least in Davis Guggenheim's film Gossip it is. An unusual teen thriller that thinks it is more intelligent than it actually is, Gossip is all about rumour-mongering and the harsh reality that such tittle-tattle can, if left unchecked, ruin people's lives. The film follows Derrick Webb (James Marsden), Cathy Jones (Lena Headey) and Travis (Norman Reedus), three University students who, for their communication studies course, design to start a rumour and track its progress as it travels, Chinese-whispers style, around the campus. Their target: spoilt rich girl Naomi Preston (Kate Hudson), who gets blind drunk at a party and ventures upstairs with her boyfriend Beau (Joshua Jackson), where absolutely nothing happens. According to the rumour-mill, though, Beau and Katie had sex and before long everyone is talking about their supposed liaison - even the police, who begin to suspect Beau of date rape. The premise of Gossip is intriguing and, in the hands of a more experienced feature director and with a tighter screenplay, could have been a very good film indeed. Unfortunately, director Guggenheim decided to turn a clever idea into nothing more than a sexy "twist" thriller with an unbelievably dumb ending that only succeeds in trivialising everything that had gone before. It's right up there with "it's only a dream" as the ultimate cop-out denouement. Having said that some of the performances are good, especially the edgy Reedus, and there is solid support from stalwarts Eric Bogosian and Edward James Olmos. In the end, though, even their presence can't save a film which is stymied by its own lack of ambition. Graeme Revell's music is, surprisingly, very interesting. Stylistically, it's similar to that which he wrote for The Negotiator, in that it makes use of several sets of electronic drum pads and synth loops augmented by a bold and dense bed of strings. The hip, urban beats that Revell injects into the film actually do lend a sense of contemporary flair to the film as a whole, making it seem slicker and flashier than it actually is. The clever trick, though, is the intriguing "bendy" effect that Revell injects into several sequences, as if to musically acknowledge the increasingly skewed perspective the film projects. Some of club scenes are stylishly scored with plenty of groove, and the fight scene between Derrick and Beau is quite exciting, but on the whole the music is very much "sound wash", with nothing particularly outstanding to rise above the rest. Songs play a big part too, most of them conforming to the usual grunge/rock mentality of most teen flicks these days - the one which plays over the end credits (I forget who sings it) is quite good.
SHANGHAI NOON
RANDY EDELMAN
It finally seems like Jackie Chan has broken into the American market. Following on from domestic successes like Rumble In The Bronx, Mr. Nice Guy, and the 1998 smash hit Rush Hour, the man who many have called the successor to Bruce Lee is back in action with Shanghai Noon: an action comedy set in the wildest parts of the wild, wild west. Chan stars as Chon Wang (mispronounced with remarkable similarity to John Wayne), a hapless guard at the Chinese Imperial Palace in the 1800s. When the beautiful Princess Pei Pei (Lucy Liu) is captured by disgraced former aide Lo Fong (Roger Yuan) and brought to America, Chon and three fellow guards are dispatched to bring her home. However, once in Nevada, Chon is accidentally separated from his comrades, and unwittingly teams up with wannabe bank robber Roy O'Bannon (Owen Wilson) to rescue the Princess and claim the gold that has been offered as a reward. However, hot on their trail is unscrupulous lawman Nathan van Cleef (Xander Berkeley), whose vendetta against O'Bannon brings them ever closer to a showdown. Directed by newcomer Tom Dey, Shanghai Noon is two hours of gloriously undemanding entertainment, where Chan's incredible stunt work, the increasingly elaborate set-pieces, and the bickering comedy repartee between Chan and Wilson are most important elements. There are no particularly good performances (although the increasingly impressive Owen Wilson is good in everything he does), no grand speeches, and not much in the way of a deeper meaning. It's a good, old fashioned fun movie. Jackie Chan's agility and dexterity in the action sequences is still breathtaking: he might not be as fast or as fluid as he once was, but he can still work wonders, be it with his fists, his feet, a horseshoe, or his ponytail! The movie also takes great pains to lampoon many of the traditions of the old-fashioned westerns: there is a great pastiche of the "High Noon" showdown, several fabulous barroom brawls, and much comedy relief courtesy of Chon's first encounter with an Indian pipe of peace. Randy Edelman, of course, has never written for a Western before (unless you count the little-known Tall Tale), but nevertheless has infused Shanghai Noon with all the musical nuances associated with the genre. Hints of Bernstein, Moross and Tiomkin abound throughout the score, from the broad, sprawling theme that accompanies Chon's journeys across the desert, to the iconoclastic inclusion of banjos, fiddles and a Jew's harp to add a touch of period authenticity. One shot in particular - a high-altitude whirl around Chan as he traverses a mountain range - is especially memorable for its musical beauty, while many of the action sequences mix old and new. Well, it was too much to ask for Edelman to leave all his synthesisers at home, wasn't it?
X-MEN
MICHAEL KAMEN
I was never a comic book fan - either Marvel or DC or anything - as a child, and therefore until I saw the trailer for Bryan Singer's X-Men I had no idea what to expect. I don't know whether it is a respectful homage to the original strip, and I can't tell whether Singer has made any fundamental changes to Stan Lee's hallowed original text. But, as a summer blockbuster, it's a marvellous romp. In the hands of the man who gave the world The Usual Suspects, X-Men is not your usual men-in-yellow-spandex super hero caper. Instead, it is a thoughtful exploration of what it means to be an outcast in society, brought to boiling point by cutting edge special effects, an intelligent screenplay, and a moral standpoint in which not all the villains are wrong and not all the heroes are right. The film follows the fortunes of Logan (Hugh Jackman), a mutant drifter who has the ability to heal himself at will, sprouts vicious metal talons from his knuckles, and goes by the name of Wolverine. A chance encounter with a young runaway named Rogue (Anna Paquin), who absorbs people's energy by touching their skin, brings Wolverine and his young friend to the attention of Professor Charles Xavier (Patrick Stewart), a telepathic paraplegic who runs a school to teach mutants to control their powers and use them for good. However, Xavier's school is merely a front for something much bigger: a small army who have vowed to protecting the human race from Magneto (Ian McKellen), a powerful mutant who can control all metals, and who is trying to start a war between humans and mutants. It's a film which spends as much time developing its characters as it does thrilling the audience, ands that's why X-men succeeds. Magneto, for all his faults, is not wholly wrong in his thinking - just going about it in the wrong way. And the sense of irony that the script by David Hayter adds a wonderful sense of self-deprecating humour to the proceedings - the look on Logan's face when told the names of his cohorts is priceless. And then there are the visual and makeup effects, which are some of the most startling and innovative to grace the screen since The Phantom Menace. The approach Michael Kamen took for his music is not too dissimilar to the one he took for The Iron Giant, in that he has created a score built around a series of tiny leitmotivs that, apart from one or two instances, have a totally subliminal effect on the viewer. The two most noticeable motifs relate to the bad guys - a haunting, Asian-inflected wail for the blue-skinned shape-shifter Mystique (Rebecca Romijn-Stamos), and a thunderous electric guitar motif for the man mountain Sabretooth (Tyler Mane). There is also a beautiful romantic theme that represents the burgeoning relationship between Wolverine and Rogue, typified by a longing string theme. And then there is the action music - loud, bras, bold, and pulsating with electronic dissonance and a hyperactive techno undercurrent that drives along the scenario with a sense of style and motion. It's a good score - although not in the same league as other super-hero efforts such as Superman and Batman.
MY DOG SKIP
WILLIAM ROSS
Based on the popular best-selling novel by Willie Morris, My Dog Skip is a film which you can take your children to see with the certain knowledge that there will be absolutely nothing in it to offend their delicate sensibilities. All is sweetness and light in director Jay Russell's vision of 1940s Mississippi, right down to the Norman Rockwellian portrayal of wholesome family life, the ignorance of anything to do with segregation and racism, and the simple boyhood delights of riding your bike, playing baseball with your friends and bonding with your war-hero dad. But more than anything else it's a film where, above all other things, a boy's best friend is and always will be his dog - in this case a Jack Russell called Skip. Frankie Muniz (from the US TV sitcom Malcolm in the Middle) plays Willie, a shy and introverted 8-year old with well meaning parents (Kevin Bacon and Diane Lane), an unexpected friendship with the sports jock (Luke Wilson) next door, and a love for literature. His small frame means that he is constantly bullied by the other local kids - but this all changes upon the arrival of the titular terrier, whose presence gives Willie the confidence to win new friends and fulfil his dreams of being a writer. What else is there to say? It's a uncomplicated, tidy rite-de-passage wannabe which neatly side-steps any truly important issues and wraps an already sweet story in a layer of saccharine so thick it could curdle milk at 10 paces. I was fortunate in that I saw this film on a Transatlantic air flight, and as such was able to close my eyes every once in a while, safe in the knowledge that, as I hadn't paid extra to see it, I wouldn't miss any good bits, and instead could lose myself in the gorgeous strains of William Ross's score. Critic James Cameron-Wilson, in the British magazine Film Review, calls Ross's music "pushy" and describes the piano chords of the opening title as "treacly", when in actual fact nothing could be further from the truth. Ross bestows music of great beauty and sensitivity upon a film that really does not deserve it, even managing to make some of the more mawkish scenes seem a little less emotionally manipulative. Piano and strings form the core of the score, setting things up for a beautiful sound wash whenever something important happens in Will's life, but there are moments of darkness (such as when Willie and Skip are trapped by the evil bootleggers in the graveyard) and amusing liveliness (such as the bouncy brass march that accompanies Skip driving Willie's father's car) too. The album has been available on Varèse Sarabande for a while, and I heartily recommend you pick it up; additional music in the film is credited to Van Dyke Parks. Click here for a full review of My Dog Skip.
RULES OF ENGAGEMENT
MARK ISHAM
Rules of Engagement is, by and large, William Friedkin's most accomplished film since The Exorcist. It also contains the best performances by its two lead actors since their Oscar days - Tommy Lee Jones hasn't been this dogged since The Fugitive, and Samuel L. Jackson hasn't given a performance of this gravitas or magnitude since he was robbed of his award for Pulp Fiction. The film is a courtroom drama in the tradition of A Few Good Men and others, in which decorated US Marines Colonel Terry Childers (Jackson) is accused of murdering almost 100 men, women and children during a violent incident at the US Embassy in Yemen. For his attorney, Childers chooses his lifelong friend, retired Colonel Hayes Hodges (Jones), whose life Childers saved in Vietnam. As evidence of a diplomatic cover-up involving the American Ambassador (Ben Kingsley) and the National Security Advisor (Bruce Greenwood) emerges, it falls on the shoulders of Colonel Hodges to find the truth about whether or not his friend and colleague opened fire on a group of unarmed civilians. I have always liked legal pot-boilers. All the usual plot elements are in place in this one: a violent incident to set the wheels in motion, a decorated officer whose past is called into question, an underdog defence attorney who must rise to the occasion, a persistent prosecutor (Guy Pearce) who will stop at nothing to secure a conviction, a dramatic showdown in the witness box. Fortunately, Friedkin is a talented enough director to build upon these stock-in-trade situations with a high degree of moral ambiguity - especially Jones's character, whose motivations are swayed by all those around him, especially a sincere Yemeni doctor who treats massacre victims in a dusty, open-air clinic. The lead actors give a trio of amazing portrayals, and in my opinion are the first real Oscar candidates of 2000 to date - Jones and Jackson are arguably two of the best character actors working today, and the heated debates between Jackson and Guy Pearce on the witness stand simply crackle with tension and energy. It is also worth noting the film's impressive sound design - something which is not normally so noticeable in this day and age - but Friedkin allows the stereo sound to completely envelop the viewer, placing disembodied voices in the four corners of the cinema, and effectively re-creating and enhancing the sense of disorientation in the two battle sequences. Similarly, Nicola Pecorini's photography is splendid, especially during the shoot-out on top of the Embassy, a visual cacophony of low angles, hand-held cameras and in-your-face close ups. Interestingly, Mark Isham's music is derived from a piece called "On The Threshold of Liberty" which he wrote some 15 years ago for one of his jazz albums, and which director Friedkin liked so much he asked Isham to re-write it for this movie. As such, much of Isham's music is based around the stark, almost lonely trumpet theme from the piece, an elongated version of which gets its most prominent rendition during the end credits, where it is accompanied by a thick bed of rattling snares. Snares play a large part in the rest of the movie too - dropping the viewer into the thick of the action during its extended Vietnamese prologue, and accompanying the opening scenes of the American navy battleships as they head for the trouble spots in Yemen. Other than that, though, there is very little to get excited about, with little in the way of melodies or beauty. Much of the rest of the score is percussive electronic pulsing, adding mere drive to the action sequences, although when Isham's own trumpet solos enter the fray the film is given a definite lift.
GONE IN 60 SECONDS
TREVOR RABIN
There is a long and glorious history of car chase movies. From Bullitt and The French Connection, to Ronin in 1998, burning rubber and driving rapidly through traffic has become a staple in Hollywood action films. Unfortunately, Gone in 60 Seconds, the latest effort from producer Jerry Bruckheimer and director Dominic Sena (Kalifornia) comes across more like a Honda amongst these Ferraris of the celluloid world, despite its lofty claims, slick visuals and flashy editing. The film is a remake of a little-known 1974 B-movie and stars Nicolas Cage as Memphis Raines, a former master car thief who is called out of retirement when his younger brother Kip (Giovanni Ribisi) gets into deep water with local organised crime boss Calitri (Christopher Eccleston). The task: the steal 50 high performance cars in three days and deliver them to Los Angeles Harbour, or young Kip gets to see the inside of a car crusher. To get the job done, Memphis gathers together members of his old crew, including old-timer mechanic Otto (Robert Duvall), wild child Sway (Angelia Jolie), carjacker turned driving instructor Donny (Chi McBride), and silent strongman Sphinx, played by soccer star Vinnie Jones. And then the mayhem starts - but aside from a couple of well-staged action set pieces and some excellent stunt driving, there is little else going on. Screenwriter Scott Rosenberg, whose excellent work on Things To Do In Denver When You're Dead caused such a stir, seems to have been working on autopilot here, providing stock-in-trade characters with poor motivation and banal dialogue. Why anyone would want to invest so much time and effort helping a snivelling little weasel like Ribisi is quite beyond me, let alone such a disparate group of no-hopers as those on show here. And quite how a petty Mancunian thug like Calitri strikes such fear in the hearts of the LA crime fraternity is unbelievable. All you would need to do is wave a bucket of woodworm in front of him, and he'd be running for the hills. Those bothered by such things will surely find Gone in 60 Seconds a terrible disappointment. On the other hand, those who go to the film looking for nothing more than the throaty roar of a V8 or the squeal of a set of Goodyears will probably be entertained. Trevor Rabin's music is much like the movie - all style and no substance. It's another one of those blaring Media Ventures scores that Bruckheimer so favours, full of pounding synthesisers, an elaborate array of electronic effects, a bed of pseudo-heroic strings and the familiar guitars that have dominated virtually all of Rabin's work to date. It matches the engine noise note for cacophonous note, and undoubtedly lends a thunderous edge to the action scenes, but has very little in terms of recurring thematic or melodic content that I could make out. Additional music is credited to fellow MV alumni Paul Linford and Tim Heintz; the song CD favours Moby, Crystal Method, Gomez, DMX and the Chemical Brothers; the score is available on Varese. Click here for a full review of Gone in 60 Seconds.
THE PERFECT STORM
JAMES HORNER
I've said it so often that is has almost become a cliché, but James Horner remains the only film composer who can make me cry at will. For about the fifth time in succession, The Perfect Storm made the tears well up on several occasions - not just because of the aforementioned Mr. Horner but because the film itself is immensely enjoyable, exciting, and very moving - not least because it is also true. Wolfgang Petersen's movie tells the story of the crewmen of the Andrea Gail, hard-working fishermen from Gloucester, Massachusetts, who left port one day in 1991 in search of a good catch and ended up being caught up in one of the biggest, most terrifying storms in meteorological history. George Clooney stars as Billy Tyne, the rugged captain of the Gail, and gives a performance that matches his best screen performances to date. Tyne is macho yet sensitive, principled, courageous and headstrong, but never foolish, and has an almost poetic love for the life he leads. Clooney's portrayal of the natural leader is a great testament to Tyne's memory: it is all too easy to forget that these people were very real. Similarly, the supporting performances of Mark Wahlberg, Diane Lane, John C. Reilly and Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio are uniformly excellent, with Wahlberg and Lane standing out as the devoted couple whose future together is cut short by a freak of nature. The other stars of the show are the eye-popping special effects courtesy of Twister creators Stefen Fangmeier and Habib Zargarpour, whose stunning recreation of weather at its worst takes the breath away. Waves churn, rain lashes down with relentless fury, and the ocean rises and falls like an evil beast, ready to devour anything that falls within its clutches. Sadly, that is precisely what happened to the six trawlermen, all of whom were ultimately lost at sea. Horner's contribution to the emotion of the piece is considerable and, as usual, is right on the nose in terms of generating a response from the audience. The powerful, energetic electric guitar element that runs through the score somehow manages to make gutting swordfish seem a noble, almost heroic pursuit, and captures the love the Gloucestermen have for the ocean with a beautiful, simple central theme. Several moments remain in the memory for the wonderful use of music: when Bobby and Christine embrace on the dockside during the opening montage; when the Andrea Gail sets sail for the final time, watched by the families of the crew members; and the breathtaking dissonance that accompanies the boat's terrible final encounter with the "rogue wave". It may be derivative of other scores to a certain degree, but the amount of love and compassion Horner manages to convey through his music merely strengthens his standing as, in my opinion, the best dramatist working in film music today. Click here for a full review of The Perfect Storm.
STUART LITTLE
ALAN SILVESTRI
Stuart Little is a charming family film about a too-nice-to-be-true New York Little family (Geena Davis, Hugh Laurie) who want to adopt a little brother for their precocious seven year old son George (Jonathan Lipnicki from Jerry Maguire). However, when the family return from the orphanage with a talking mouse named Stuart (voiced by Michael J. Fox), George is less than happy. Equally distressed with the new arrival is the family cat Snowbell (voiced by Nathan Lane), who can only imagine the shame at being a moggy owned by a mouse. As Stuart gets to grips with the enormity (in more ways than one) of hi new life with the Littles, Snowbell colludes with a gang of nasty alley cats to remove the rodent from his life... Cue lots of hi jinks, action set-pieces, innumerable scenes of family bonding, and a level of cuteness that would be almost unbearable if it weren't for the fact that the movie is so damn entertaining. While the pre-teens will laugh at the amusing antics of the titular character, adults will get much more of a kick out of Snowbell's acidic wit and wonderfully petulant put-downs ("I could save you now, but I have a busy day ahead... I have to go stare at traffic, yawn, lick myself... and believe me, if you do it right, that can take all day!") The voice cast, which also includes familiar names such as Chazz Palminteri, Bruno Kirby and Jennifer Tilly, are uniformly excellent, while the screenplay by Sixth Sense director M. Night Shyamalan is funny and warm, just staying on the right side of sickly sentimentality. I'm just pleased that Night decided not to follow the lead of the original book and have Geena Davis actually give birth to Stuart... although, after parting with a bloated maggot in The Fly I would imagine something that small would be welcome relief. Although not in fact a Disney-produced feature, Alan Silvestri's lush orchestral score reeks of the Magic Kingdom. Big and sweeping and created to wring every single ounce of emotion from its audience, in the hands of another composer this score could have been so over-the-top as to be virtually unlistenable. But Silvestri is an old hand at this and, along with Marc Shaiman, is Hollywood's most gifted practitioner when it comes to the "big sentimental theme". Stylistically, Stuart Little closely resembles Silvestri's work on The Parent Trap, and is full of warm sounding strings, replete with cymbal clashes and has a main melody that sweeps you away. When Stuart is standing on the parapet of his golf club home shouting his name at the city, the music gave me the shivers. The surprising element of the score is the action music, which for all the world sounds like a pastiche of Leonard Bernstein's acclaimed work on West Side Story! The car chase sequence is especially worth noting for this style of scoring, and is jazzy and exciting. As usual, Silvestri is criminally underrepresented on the soundtrack album, with just two short (but very good) cues surrounded by songs from Lyle Lovett, Trisha Yearwood, Lou Bega and (bizarrely!) Matt Goss of Bros. Can you say promo please?
HIGH FIDELITY
HOWARD SHORE
Every soundtrack collector should see High Fidelity. The reason? To giggle uncomfortably when some of the film's characters say and do things we have all done during our "record hunting" sprees, and at which the rest of the audience poke fun - oh, the silly, anal-retentiveness of it all! In-depth discussions about musical minutiae abound in Stephen Frears' frank and funny movie, as do pointless top five lists (OK, here's one: top five songs about death!), scientific methods of arranging your record collection, album trivia, rare and unreleased things... the times I laughed out loud while thinking "oh, God, I've done that!" during High Fidelity were immeasurable. Based on the best-selling novel by Nick Hornby, High Fidelity stars John Cusack as Rob, the owner of a popular Chicago record store, whose relationships with women continually fall down around his ears. When his latest beau, the lovely Laura (Iben Hjejle), finally leaves his apartment, Rob sees his new status as a single guy as an opportunity to re-evaluate his love life and see where he is going wrong. Told in flashback, with Ferris Bueller-style straight to camera narration, Rob looks back over his "top five all-time break-ups", frets over Laura's new relationship with new-age counselling guru Ian (Tim Robbins with a Goldsmithian ponytail), manages to bed sultry soul diva Marie De Salle (Lisa Bonet) and chews the fat with his record store colleagues Dick (Todd Louiso) and Barry (the maniacally brilliant Jack Black). There are a lot of wonderful truths hidden within the High Fidelity hi-jinks, most of which come as a result of Cusack's totally natural and unforced performance as the archetypal kid who never grew up. He's never happier than when lovingly encasing vinyl records in cellophane and storing them for posterity - but when it comes to relationships he shies away. Despite the moving of the setting from North London to Illinois, the universal themes never lose their impact, making this movie a charming, funny, romantic treat. The credits for High Fidelity claim that there is original music composed and arranged by Howard Shore but, for the first hour at least, I didn't notice any. And this isn't a flippant remark either; I was really, really listening, but virtually every time I thought to myself "oh, this is score", it turned out to be a song intro instead. Quite what happened to Howard Shore's contribution to this film is a mystery - maybe because Frears' placement and use of the pop idiom was inspired, Shore was left with virtually nothing to do. But, if you stay right to the very end of the credits reel, a fairly lengthy instrumental track is performed, and although it's obviously the work of the New Yorker, it's the most unlikely Shore piece you'll ever hear. Up-tempo, modernistic, almost jazzy in texture, with synths, guitars and a pepped-up drumbeat, it's actually rather good, and makes one wish that Shore had been given the opportunity to write something like this for a film where it would be heard by more people. A few instrumental cues during the second half of the film (including one when Rob and Laura are making out in the car) sound as though they could have been his doing, but the credits also claim that a track by Rupert Gregson-Williams was used too, so you never know... The best-selling high-concept soundtrack is crammed to bursting with popular songs by an eclectic bevy of artists, including efforts by The Velvet Underground, Bob Dylan, The Beta Band, Stereolab, and finishing with actor Black's showstopping rendition of the old Marvin Gaye classic "Let's Get It On", and comes highly recommended despite containing nothing of the score.
THE PATRIOT
JOHN WILLIAMS
I don't want to get caught up in all the hoo-hah about how historically inaccurate The Patriot is. Roland Emmerich's big-budget follow-up to Godzilla does over-simplify the relationship between Britain and the American colonies to almost kindergarten levels; it paints all Brits as either stuffy aristocrats, effete fops or cold-hearted murderers; and it gets quite a lot of its factual history wrong in terms of the atrocities that were committed on both sides of the conflict. But, as a cinematic spectacle, The Patriot is definitely enjoyable, although most of my countrymen (and women) will, at times, feel the need to watch it through gritted teeth. The year is 1776 and Mel Gibson stars as Benjamin Martin, a former hero of the British/French war who has put aside his violent streak and is now living peacefully as a farmer with his seven children. Tensions are rising between America (who want to break away from home rule) and Great Britain (who don't want them to), to the point where outright war is almost inevitable. Benjamin's patriotic but hotheaded son Gabriel (Heath Ledger) is keen to join the conflict, and contrary to his father's wishes signs up in the Colonial Army. For a while, the rest of the Martin family avoid the fighting, until a legion of British redcoats led by the sadistic Colonel Tavington (Jason Isaacs), visits the plantation. The confrontation leads to the death of Martin's second son Thomas and the burning of the homestead; swelled by revenge and fierce patriotic pride, Martin assembles a ragtag group of local militia and sets about waging war on the British. Basically, it's Braveheart all over again - family man is drawn into war by a brutal tragedy, and inspires his men to victory against the aggressors - but this time the fight is for the stars 'n stripes instead of the saltaire. Gibson is actually very, very good in his performance, conveying a great deal of personal emotion and inner conflict, barely hidden rage and shattering sadness. Jason Isaacs, on the other hand, is the amalgamation of every sneering movie villain there has ever been, a man of such overwhelming nastiness that even his superior officers feel uncomfortable with his tactics! In supporting roles, special note should go to the youthful yet intense Ledger, the surprisingly good Leon Rippy as militiaman John Billings, and Rene Auberjonois as the reverend with a rifle. And, of course, the battle scenes are wonderfully choreographed and shot, with Emmerich obviously trying to recapture the intensity of Braveheart's similar skirmishes - only this time we have flying cannonballs removing heads and legs from their owners. John Williams replaced David Arnold to write The Patriot's stirring score, a spot-on combination of thunderous battle music, sentimental fiddle solos and a rousing central theme. The main thrust of Williams' music is one of those-spine tingling pieces that accompanies the moments of heroism and bravery - most of which are themselves accompanied by shots of someone waving a US flag. The blossoming romantic relationships that both Benjamin and Gabriel enjoy are underscored by a lovely flute solo, and there is one heartbreaking moment when Williams pulls out all the emotional stops as the militiamen discover that a small village church has been razed to the ground. And then, of course, the battle music is all blood and thunder, incorporating cacophonous war drums and thrusting brass lines. It's a superb effort, without a doubt, and easily one of the best of the new millennium to date. Click here for a full review of The Patriot.
THREE TO TANGO
GRAEME REVELL
It's confusing being a guy during this period in history - just ask Matthew Perry. In the new movie Three To Tango he plays architect Oscar Novak who, after he and his partner Peter Steinberg (Oliver Platt) are given a multi-million dollar commission by businessman Charles Newman (Dylan McDermott), is asked to "watch over" his artist girlfriend Amy (Neve Campbell). The problem: everyone thinks Oscar is gay, including Amy, and he must keep up the pretence in order to save his career. The other problem: Oscar has fallen madly in love with Amy. Friends star Perry makes for an amiable leading man in this surprisingly sweet-natured and enjoyable romantic comedy of errors, but the revelation here is Campbell, whose performance as the perennially upbeat, delightfully goofy and totally gorgeous Amy is in complete contrast to her more familiar roles in Wild Things and the Scream trilogy. The brilliant Oliver Platt has a ball camping it up as Oscar's uber-gay business partner, the solidly-built Cylk Cozart plays completely against type as the pro football star with a secret, and the trio of scruffy young oiks who continually manifest themselves in Oscar's apartment get several of the film's best lines. Director Damon Santostefano adds a high saccharine quotient that just manages to stay on the right side of sickly, resulting in a picture that plays like a cross between In & Out and Romeo & Juliet in reverse. Composer Graeme Revell is not best known for his comedy scores - in fact, I can't ever remember him scoring one before. Despite his lack of a track record, though, Revell's music for Three to Tango is completely delightful, revelling in a series of rocking swing tunes, toe-tapping big band beats and a luscious romantic string theme that is quite possibly one of the loveliest single moments of his entire career to date. Several moments in the film - including Oscar and Amy's walk in the rain, and and the defining moment at the Annual Gay & Lesbian Business Person of the Year Awards - are scored with a great deal of delicacy and poignancy. It's quite a change for the New Zealander, but one which adds him to the growing list of composers who have surprised me recently. Graeme Revell writing sweet romantic music? Not a chance! The soundtrack features one cue of Revell's music along with several songs and source music cues, including the opening title track "Jumpin' East of Java" by the Brian Setzer Orchestra and the rollicking end credits tune "Swing Sweet Pussycat" by Atomic Fireballs.
CHICKEN RUN
HARRY GREGSON-WILLIAMS and JOHN POWELL
I can only imagine how much care and dedication it must take to make a short stop-motion animation movie, let alone an 80-minute feature, but somehow Nick Park and Peter Lord have pulled it off. The brainchild of the creators of Wallace & Gromit, Chicken Run is the world's first plasticine movie - and one which, despite all the odds, manages to be a complete success on virtually every level. Six painstaking years in the making, Chicken Run is, in an eggshell, The Great Escape with fowl. The hens at Tweedy's Farm live a life of total boredom, punctuated with the ever-present possibility of being plucked from the coop and ending up stuffed on the kitchen table. The restless Ginger (voice of Julia Sawalha) dreams of flying the nest and making a new life for her and her feathered friends beyond the confines of the chicken wire, but finds her breaks for freedom continually thwarted by Mrs. Tweedy (voice of Miranda Richardson). Finally resigned to their fate, hope suddenly presents itself in the shape of Rocky (voice of Mel Gibson), an American rooster who flies into the farmyard. It's a testament to the sophistication and brilliance of the animators that, after about 30 seconds, you forget you're watching lumps of clay moving around on screen, and start treating the characters as real live... er... birds. With a voice cast to die for (as well as the aforementioned, Jane Horrocks, Phil Daniels, Timothy Spall and Imelda Staunton lend their dulcet tones), a genuinely funny screenplay that lampoons just about every action-adventure movie in history, and some surprisingly touching and poignant moments, Chicken Run is a film that will appeal to all. You'll laugh, you'll cry, and you'll never visit KFC again. Musically, Chicken Run also marks the re-teaming of Antz duo Harry Gregson-Williams and John Powell, and second time around the results are just as good. There is life, energy, and good-naturedness galore throughout this fully orchestral score, which makes wonderful use of some intriguing instruments, notably a whole host of kazoos! The rousing, Bernstein-esque main title, several thumping action cues (especially the pie machine chase), and the surprisingly lovely romantic theme for Rocky and Ginger all leave positive impressions. Best of all, though, are the two fantastic montage sequences (chickens in training, and "Building the Crate"), both of which generate an incredible head of steam and maintain a real sense of thematic consistency. HGW and Powell have done it again! Click here for a full review of Chicken Run.
MISSION: IMPOSSIBLE 2
HANS ZIMMER
2000's first genuine summer blockbuster is Mission Impossible 2, John Woo's sequel to the smash hit original, albeit this time with much more attention given to ensuring that the audience understands the plot! Tom Cruise returns as Special Agent Ethan Hunt, the epitome of über-cool with pitch black shades and pitch black clothes, sent by his new boss (Anthony Hopkins) to Sydney, Australia, to stop a deadly flu virus from being released into the world by rogue agent Sean Ambrose (Dougray Scott), who then plans to use the antidote as blackmail. Along the way, Hunt joins forces with Ambrose's former girlfriend, master thief Nyah Hall (Thandie Newton), and falls deeply and unexpectedly in love, while technical expert Luther (Ving Rhames) and Aussie chopper pilot Billy (John Polson) look on. Although the first hour is pretty much given to exposition and plot-development, the final hour kicks metaphorical ass, with Woo's familiar balletic stunt work, frequent use of slow-mo and long, drawn-out action sequences dominating events. Although there is far too much confusing "face removal" (you'll see what I mean) and several plot holes big enough to hide a dump truck, the kinetic visual more than makes up for it, with the sensational motorbike chase along the Sydney streets and the powerhouse fist-fight finale on the beach among the highlights. After a fairly quiet time of it in 1999, Hans Zimmer is back with a vengeance in the new millennium, with scores for Gladiator, The Road to El Dorado and this one. Actually, Zimmer does do quite a few things differently in Mission Impossible 2, not least of which is to show off an unexpected flair for guitar writing and flamenco rhythms. Although, on several occasions, Zimmer's clap-and-stomp percussion work echoes that of James Horner (The Mask of Zorro) and, to a lesser extent, Bill Conti (The Thomas Crown Affair), the lush and expressive guitar themes and passionate Latino orchestrations that come to represent Nyah are surprisingly good, and make for a refreshing change from the patented Zimmer action material. I say it's a refreshing change, because there is a lot of that in the score too... big, heavy action cues laced with the seemingly endless array of drum machines and synth pads and electronic embellishment that we've all heard many times before and which has turned Zimmer into the love-him-or-loathe-him figure he is today. It's undeniably effective in the context of the movie, and propels the superhuman action along nicely - it's just soooo predictable. Did someone say The Rock? Or The Peacemaker? Or... Or... The effect is so loud and overwhelming that it almost batters the audience into musical submission, and without the admittedly quite funky inclusion of Lalo Schifrin's original IMF theme the end result would be almost too much to bear. As well as the score CD, a successful soundtrack with one Zimmer cut and new tracks by Tori Amos, Limp Bizkit, Rob Zombie and Foo Fighters is also available. Click here for a full review of Mission: Impossible 2.
THE NEXT BEST THING
GABRIEL YARED
Since being unceremoniously shafted by the Oscar committee for her last film, Evita, Madonna Louise Ciccone has been rather quiet in terms of her acting career. Her return to the silver screen is in John Schlesinger's The Next Best Thing which, in a surreal echo of her private life, is about a single mother with a gay friend. Madonna stars as yoga instructor Abbie who, after a marathon session of alcoholic imbibery with her bent best buddy Rupert Everett, finds herself accidentally pregnant with his child. At first things go well for the unconventional couple, with Madonna and Everett the next best thing to a traditional husband-and-wife mother-and-father team. It's an open relationship, with both free to continue down their own sexual paths while still remaining devoted to their child. Things start to go awry, however, when Madonna falls for handsome investment banker Benjamin Bratt, and Everett senses a potential takeover on the home front. It's at that point that Schlesinger's already unconvincing movie changes from being a charming, if a little dated, comedy to being a gut-wrenching tug-of-love courtroom drama that totally fails to generate any empathy for either character. It's not the fault of either lead performer, both of whom do what they can with the already dodgy material, but when they're nonchalantly dancing round in their underwear one minute and suddenly fighting for custody the next, you know your onto a loser. With this being a Madonna movie, you can't get away from her singing voice - and, true to form, the movie's main musical gift is her cover of Don MacLean's "American Pie", which she happily croons over the main titles. Several of the scene's many montage sequences are accompanied by familiar pop ditties, leaving composer Gabriel Yared with very little to do as a result. And, to be completely honest, I'm having great trouble recalling any of his work. I know it had strings, I remember there being some kind of jaunty little melody over the main titles, and the emotional finale on a street above Los Angeles was deliberately and delicately scored to heighten the audience impact, but it certainly didn't pack the same kind of punch as his work on Message in a Bottle and The English Patient. The soundtrack contains one Yared cut (entitled "Forever and Always"), Madonna's aforementioned cover, and several songs by the likes of Beth Orton, Christina Aguilera, Olive and Moby.
U-571
RICHARD MARVIN
It may not live up to the high standards of Das Boot, The Hunt for Red October or even Crimson Tide, but the sense of impending doom that besets Jonathan Mostow's film still makes watching U-571 an uncomfortable, yet compelling experience. Based on a true story and with a cast that includes Matthew McConaughey, Bill Paxton, Harvey Keitel, Jake Weber and even Jon Bon Jovi, U-571 tells the story of a group of American submariners in World War 2 who undertake a deadly but potentially tide-turning mission: to capture a Nazi U-Boat, steal it's secret decoding machine, and then sail the enemy vessel into friendly waters where it can be safely scuppered. Of course, things go wrong, and soon the surviving crew members are creeping through the murky depths of the North Atlantic, avoiding depth charges and fighting for their lives. The tense atmosphere and heightened sense of claustrophobia that permeates the entire movie is director Mostow's greatest achievement here; as was the case with the convincing portrayal of confusion and paranoia he conveyed in Breakdown, the audience collectively empathises with the cast of U-571. On many occasions during the film, I could feel myself holding my breath, waiting for the next rivet to pop or water to spurt as the pressure around and within the submersible increased. The performances from the majority of the cast are good, especially unknowns Erik Palladino and Matthew Settle as two of the youngsters who make up part of the surviving American crew, while stalwarts such as McConaughey, Paxton and the ever-reliable Keitel add depth and gravitas. Even Jon Bon Jovi is more than adequate in a part which is ultimately little more than an extended cameo. Composer Richard Marvin is writing for his first major movie, after not particularly enjoying a lacklustre career that encompasses titles such as "3 Ninjas", "3 Ninjas Kick Back" and the remake of "Escape to Witch Mountain". Although musically and structurally adept, and achieving its stated aims, U-571's music obviously owes a huge debt of gratitude to Jerry Goldsmith, and in particular the score for Air Force One, the militaristic snare licks and uber-patriotic horn fanfares of which it is obviously based upon. Marvin's main theme is appropriate, but not as dominant as one might expect for a film of this type. All the right ingredients are there: they have just not been mixed in the right quantities to make them truly mouth-watering. Nevertheless, much of the action material is good, especially during the scene in which the Allied and Nazi submarines engage in a topside dogfight, and during the climactic dice with a gigantic German destroyer. In several of these scenes, Marvin seems to have made a conscious attempt to recreate the bold, metallic sound that James Horner made famous, with every hammer and anvil echoing along with every creak and groan of the steel sea monster. The heroic performance of the main theme as the American sub first leaves port is the one melodic highlights of a score which has very few moments of real beauty, but which still manages to just about leave a positive impression with its scale and energy. Click here for a full review of U-571.
GALAPAGOS
MARK ISHAM
By their very nature, IMAX movies are larger than life. Galapagos takes the large format movie a step further than that by being filmed and presented in 3D, an effect which I personally had never experienced in a cinema before, but which left me eager for more. Basically an elongated nature documentary, Galapagos takes an extended look at the flora and fauna of the titular islands, an Ecuadorian province located in the Pacific Ocean, and where several unique species of animal, fish and plant life exist in total isolation from the rest of the world. Directed by Al Giddings and David Clark and featuring narration by Kenneth Branagh, Galapagos swoops along rocky shorelines, plunges to the very bottom of the ocean, and gets closer to giant tortoises than one ever thought possible. As a spectacle, Galapagos is a superb piece of cinema, and one which succeeds on every conceivable level, including music. Although composers such as Alan Williams and Sam Cardon have built solid reputations by writing regularly for large format features, it's still rare to find a "major" Hollywood composer coming on board to score an IMAX movie. Jazz trumpeter and composer Mark Isham has joined the list of musicians who have contributed their talents to this unique branch of the cinema, and with largely successful results. Isham engages in some snazzy percussive play, making great use of a wide and rich variety of ethnic drums, rattles, shakers and other peculiarities to conjure up the exotic flavour of the islands. Each piece of film is illustrated with an individual musical motif: the undersea adventures of the film's human face, Dr Carol Baldwin, are scored with reverence and tough of mysticism, echoing her claim that "the deep sea is Earth's last great frontier". The Hammerhead sharks which cruise the warm waters are portrayed with grace and beauty, but just hint of danger; the funny tortoises get an amusing little march, while the cleverly-camouflaged amphibious lizards that plague the archipelago's shoreline are musically accompanied by skittish strings and innovative orchestral effects. A good film, a good score, and a side to Isham which one hopes will make an appearance in a film that can be enjoyed by a much wider audience.
RELATIVE VALUES
JOHN DEBNEY
Relative Values is a curiously old-fashioned comedy about class divides and mistaken identities that, had it been made thirty or forty years ago with David Niven or Terry-Thomas, would undoubtedly have been a huge success. As it is, and taking into consideration film-going likes and dislikes of cinema-goers in the year 2000, the comedy seems rather dated and a little out of touch with modern morals and attitudes. Although, having said that, perhaps that is the point: to remind the world just how silly and petty the social orders once were, and how, through comedy, we can all agree that this kind of intolerance really has no place in the world anymore. One thing the film does have going for it is its cast, which welcomes back to the screen Dame Julie Andrews with Stephen Fry, William Baldwin, Jeanne Tripplehorn and Colin Firth among others. Andrews plays Lady Marshwood, grande dame of a British stately home in the 1950s. Her upper-class, highly ordered existence is thrown into turmoil when it is announced that her son Nigel, the Earl of Marshwood (Edward Atterton), will be returning home from America with a new fiancee in tow - movie star Miranda Frayle (Tripplehorn). Things get even worse when it transpires that Miranda is, in fact, the long lost sister of Marshwood's head maid Moxie (Sophie Thompson in a brilliant, potentially career-making role), and that Miranda's former beau, matinee idol Don Lucas (Baldwin), is hot on their trail. Despite the contrived set up, the screenplay adaptation of Noel Coward's original text offers up a few funny one-liners, most of them courtesy of Firth. Fry and Thompson who seem to be revelling in their roles. The Kentish countryside (a brilliant performance by the Isle of Man) is lovely, but the most noticeable aspect of the film John Debney's light, jazzy score, which works a treat. It's a real change of pace and style for the man last seen wielding his baton for Arnie's End of Days, but Debney's music offers the film a deft, romantic touch with several excellent musical moments - notably during the blossoming relationship between Don and Miranda, and during several of the arrival and departure sequences, which make wonderful use of a jazz ensemble, electric guitars and muted trumpet solos. Click here for a full review of Relative Values.
FREQUENCY
MICHAEL KAMEN
Once you get past the conceit of the initial premise, and the fact that a total suspension of disbelief is necessary to enjoy any part of this film, Frequency turns out to be a pretty good little thriller. Jim Caviezel stars as disheartened NY homicide cop John Sullivan, a man weighted down by the pressures of his job and his ailing personal relationships. One night, the Bronx is lit up by a particularly striking appearance of the aurora borealis (northern lights), an astronomical phenomenon which illuminates the night sky with brilliant colours and shimmering effects. With encouragement from his best buddy Gordo (Noah Emmerich), John dusts off the old ham radio which had been previously been sitting in his closet, and to his own amazement somehow makes contact with his fire-fighter father Frank (Dennis Quaid), who had been killed in a blaze some thirty years previously. With the aurora bridging the gap between time and space, father and son affect a reconciliation - but as a direct result of their miraculous contact, reality is somehow altered, allowing a serial killer who had previously only murdered three women to go on and kill ten more - one of whom turns out to be Caviezel's mother (Elizabeth Mitchell). Frequency is an enjoyable, if a little absurd film, which takes the notion of altering the space/time continuum to levels the Back to the Future trilogy never imagined. Caviezel and Quaid are both excellent in their performances, striking up a genuinely touching relationship via interconnected microphones, and director Gregory Hoblit's management of both the action and drama is admirable. For the music, the producers turned to Michael Kamen, who subsequently provided one of his best scores for a while. Kamen's music is quite unique in several ways, most notably for its liberal use of electronics. Kamen is a composer from the old school of symphonic scoring, but one who is not aversed to pushing the boundaries of his own music - as proven by the unexpectedly contemporary sounds on offer here. As one would expect, there is plenty of "thriller" music, with chases and action sequences and suspense galore. What one doesn't expect to hear in a score like Frequency is a sublimely gorgeous theme for the full orchestra, but that's what we get, capturing the nature of the emotion in the relationship between father and son. Oboes give way to the lushest strings in one of the most striking main melodies of Kamen's career - stick around for the final moments of the end credits for the most affecting performance. It's just a shame that there is no score album available for the masses to hear it. Trivia note: the pumping action music that accompanies the pre-credits fire truck sequence is not by Kamen, but J. Peter Robinson. Don't ask me how come, because I have no idea.
THE NINTH GATE
WOJCIECH KILAR
Roman Polanski movies used to be greatly anticipated events - after all, we're talking about the director of Rosemary's Baby, Chinatown and Frantic here. But, in recently years, the controversial director's output has slowed to a virtual crawl, and if truth be told the quality has waned as well. The Ninth Gate, while not a great film in itself, is nevertheless his greatest film in a decade: a contemporary thriller steeped in mystery, murder and the occult. Johnny Depp plays rare book dealer Dean Corso, a shadowy figure whose knowledge of his field and comparative unscrupulousness has made him a sort of librarian-for-hire, the Indiana Jones of the written word. Billionaire collector Boris Balkan (Frank Langella) hires Corso to track down the two other existing copies of the seventeenth-century book "The Nine Gates of the Kingdom of Shadows", which legend has it were reputedly co-written by Satan himself and that, when brought together, they hold the power to reincarnate Lucifer. With an enigmatic millionairess (Lena Olin) and a mysterious young girl with strange powers (Emmanuelle Seigner) in tow, Corso travels to Europe to track down the tomes - and uncovers a conspiracy bigger than he could have ever imagined. There are many flaws in The Ninth Gate, one of which is the ambiguous ending which somehow contrives to undermine the entire movie, but there are also many plus points. Darius Khondji's saturated cinematography is wonderful, giving the old-fashioned European locations a thick, romantic look. The performances by the entire cast are completely over-the-top, but in a good way: Depp plays Corso as an archetypal anti-hero, utterly confused by his immediate surroundings and led from scene to scene by the peripheral characters. Polanski's wife Emmanuelle Seigner radiates enigmatic grace as "The Girl", a woman who floats in and out of Corso's life seemingly at will. Lena Olin's Liana Telfer is the ultimate femme fatale - a luscious concoction of danger and sexuality - while Frank Langella has a wonderful time chewing the scenery as the greasy bibliophile Balkan. And then there is Wojciech Kilar's majestic music; a dark, deep, velvety score which perfectly fits in with Polanski's Gothic vision. Kilar's trademark circular basses and cellos dominate the film's underscore itself, and sound wonderful, but are still completely overshadowed in the main and end titles by the stunning vocal performance by soprano Sumi Jo of the score's main theme, "Vocalise". A jaunty, quasi-comical horn and harp theme for Corso himself accompanies Depp on his increasingly peculiar travels, and there are several moments of intense orchestral and choral power, notably during Balkan's fiery death scene, and the subsequent lovemaking scene between Corso and The Girl in front of the ancient castle which resolves the mystery of the movie. Fans of Kilar's romantic stylings in Bram Stoker's Dracula will love The Ninth Gate - I know I do. Click here for a full review of The Ninth Gate.
FINAL DESTINATION
SHIRLEY WALKER
A thought-provoking, highly enjoyable combination of teen horror and spiritual rumination, Final Destination has been one of the surprise hits at the UK Box Office this year. Director James Wong's exciting movie asks a truly thought provoking question: can a person with extra-sensory powers predict, and thereby avoid, his own death? And, if so, what consequences would there be? Devon Sawa stars as one of a group of teenagers on a school trip to Paris who, after falling asleep on board the plane, had a terrible premonition that the flight will explode in mid-air. Upon waking up, the panicking teen is thrown off the plane, along with several friends and a teacher, who then all watch in horror from the safety of the terminal as the plane does indeed erupt into a massive fireball just after take-off. The usual repercussions of blame and doubt surface amidst the group, but before long it becomes apparent that there is something much, much worse than that developing. Death itself, having been cheated out of six "lives", is now seeking to set the record straight - and bumping off the plane crash survivors in gruesome fashion. Although it's dressed up with all the elaborate trappings of an ironic post-Scream horror flick, Final Destination does tackle the weighty subject of death with surprising candidness. Do we all have a "time", a moment when we are supposed to die? And if we somehow avoid that time, how does this affect the fabric of the rest of the world? Is there some kind of grand design that everybody fits into? And how does one react if you find out that your destiny in the grand design is to die young? Not all the answers to these questions are provided, but it is at least refreshing to encounter a commercial movie with lofty ambitions and the cajones to think about these things. From purely dramatic and technical standpoints, the film is superb, with young actors Sawa, Ali Larter, Kerr Smith and Seann William Scott turning in excellent performances. As well as being profound, the screenplay by Jeffrey Reddick and Glen Morgan is actually very funny in places; and for those not that interested in all things metaphysical, many of the death scenes are tense, highly elaborate, and wonderfully gory. It's nice to see Shirley Walker back scoring major movies - she hasn't done anything with this high a profile since Turbulence back in 1997 - and her score for Final Destination is a typically exciting effort. Although nothing really knocks your socks off, she had been able to conjure up several deliciously creepy orchestral themes which preclude the inventive deaths, and her main title sequence is a superb example of how to write a musical red herring. Action cues whiz by with breakneck speed, crossing every T, dotting every I, and hitting every moment with an appropriately loud screech from the strings. Unusually for a film this successful, there is no CD album whatsoever: no songs, no score, no promo forthcoming (at the time of writing).
STIR OF ECHOES
JAMES NEWTON HOWARD
I would imagine that James Newton Howard found it pretty tough to write the music for Stir of Echoes, especially after writing The Sixth Sense - a film which covers virtually the same ground, and which was released in the US a few weeks earlier than this comparatively poor relation. Of the two, I actually preferred Stir of Echoes over the Oscar-nominated blockbuster: there was less hype, I had fewer expectation, and (with the exception of the amazing Haley Joel Osment), the acting was much better. Kevin Bacon stars as Tom Witzky, a working-class fellow in a working-class neighbourhood of Chicago, with a wife (Kathryn Erbe) and five-year old son (Zachary David Cope). After agreeing to be hypnotised at a party by his eccentric sister-in-law (Illeana Douglas), Tom awakes to find himself plagued by terrifying, hallucinatory images of a dead girl in his house - images which, he later discovers, he shares with his son, who has been having long conversations with the apparition in the dead of night. What follows is an exploration of a man's descent into obsession and paranoia, as Tom inexplicably finds himself compelled to perform increasingly peculiar tasks in an attempt to solve the mystery of his visions. Director/screenwriter David Koepp's film is more engrossing, less manipulative, and much more disturbing than The Sixth Sense - because everything in Stir of Echoes is firmly grounded in reality. There are no shock twists at the end, no incredible revelations announcing that everything was just a dream, or anything like that. The performances of Kevin Bacon and young Zachary David Cope are totally believable, and subsequently the film is all the more harrowing when the shocks and scares actually do come (watch out for the scenes where Bacon is watching TV, and where he is talking agitatedly to his son!). There is also solid support from Erbe, the perennially neurotic Douglas and the underrated Kevin Dunn, who gives a career-best here performance as Bacon's friend and neighbour Frank. James Newton Howard's efforts are somewhat overshadowed by several high-profile songs from Moist, Dishwalla and Beth Orton, but several moments in his underscore press all the right buttons. The incredibly eerie main theme makes great use of a solo piano augmented by creaking electronic effects, and several of the traditional "horrific" scenes employ all the genre standards, with groaning violins and nightmarish shifting tones galore. JNH hits all the shock-cuts perfectly and, on the whole, does a great job at capturing the overriding sense of mounting fear and tension the movie projects as it progresses.
BATTLEFIELD EARTH
ELIA CMIRAL
In this day and age, there are very few truly bad movies. There are films that you don't enjoy as much as you thought you would, and films which are let down by a particularly poor performance, or screenplay, or direction. But Battlefield Earth is a truly bad film - a surprising development as the early word of mouth was good, the talent both in front of and behind the camera is first rate, and it is based on one of the most successful science fiction novels of all time. Set one thousand years in the future, John Travolta (in the dual role of star and producer) plays Terl, the leader of the Psychlos, an evil an manipulative alien race who have conquered the earth and put mankind into slavery. Humanity has almost given up the fight the Psychlos - until a young man named Johnny Goodboy Tyler (Barry Pepper), one of the last free humans on the planet, decides to leave his desolate home high in the Rocky Mountains and take a final, courageous stand. All of this actually sounds pretty good on paper, but the final execution of Battlefield Earth is nothing short of laughable. Travolta is more annoying than scary as the nine-foot dreadlocked alien leader Terl; Pepper is adequate but far too overbearing as the improbably named hero; Forest Whitaker is just plain dumb as Terl's Psychlo sidekick, while the rest of the humans simply spend the movie grunting and snorting. Director Roger Christian, who proved his worth as second unit director on The Phantom Menace, shows more ineptitude than aptitude here, making his narrative clumsy and incoherent, the action scenes confusing, and drawing poor performances from his cast. Even some of the special effects are tacky - in this day and age, you don't expect to be able to see matte lines around the spacecraft. And the least said about the screenplay the better. Elia Cmiral, the Czech composer tackling his third major Hollywood movie here, fares much better - responding to the film's ineptitude by writing a gung-ho action score which takes itself far less seriously than the film itself, and as a result is much more enjoyable. Brasses blare, strings soar, and there are plenty of electronic enhancements to maintain the notion of science fiction. Other than the opening fanfare there is very little thematic material of note (or that can be heard above the sound effects), but in this instance it is not really a detriment. Cmiral's orchestrations are thick and busy, the music always lively, and in many of the action sequences actually manages to generate a semblance of excitement and tension that would otherwise have been lacking. I just hope that Cmiral doesn't go down in flames with the rest of the Battlefield clan. Click here for a full review of Battlefield Earth.
GLADIATOR
HANS ZIMMER and LISA GERRARD
The sword-and-sandals epic has not been seen on such a scale of this since the days of Spartacus, Ben-Hur and Demetrius and the Gladiators, when Kirk Douglas, Charlton Heston and Victor Mature strode purposefully around ancient Rome in their swirling togas. Ridley Scott's updated reworking of these once mighty movies is, with one or two small issues, a qualified success, in visual, dramatic and musical terms. Hot Kiwi actor Russell Crowe stars as Maximus, a decorated general in the Roman army whose close relationship with the noble but ailing Caesar, Marcus Aurelius (Richard Harris) causes a lot of tension back home, especially with the Emperor's hot-headed son Commodus (a wonderfully vicious Joaquin Phoenix). When Commodus learns of Caesar's plan to strip him of his throne and pass on his mantle to Maximus (thereby turning Rome into a republic), the young prince takes it upon himself to quell the uprising, murdering his father, Maximus's family, and ascending to the throne before Caesar's dying wishes could be carried out. Devastated by the loss of his wife and child, the broken Maximus is sold as a slave to Gladiator trainer Proximo (Oliver Reed), and at first sees the arena of battle as his chance to rid himself of his misery. However, as time progresses and he begins to develop a prowess in the ring, Maximus dreams of returning to Rome and, in his new guise as "Gladiator", bring about a revenge on the young king who ruined his life. With its themes of violence, murder, honour and revenge, combined with Ridley Scott's legendary visual panache, Gladiator is a sumptuous feast for the cinema-goer. Crowe's solid, purposeful performance as Maximus is played to perfection. Whereas, a decade or so ago, Arnold Schwarzenegger would have been cast as an unstoppable man-mountain, Crowe's Maximus is very human, with the same frailties, doubts and fears that would plague any other man in his position. It is his presence as the central protagonist that makes Gladiator so compelling: the pageantry, action and spectacle is as good as anything on screen this year, but it is its human centre that allows the audience to connect. Joaquin Phoenix, Oliver Reed, Connie Nielsen, Djimon Hounsou and Derek Jacobi all have excellent supporting roles, with Reed especially giving one of the best performances of his career in the film which turned out to be his last (he died three weeks before filming finished). Seeing ancient Rome restores to all its former glory through the wizardry of computer graphics is an awe-inspiring experience; the great Colosseum especially is truly remarkable in its scale and detail. And the Gladiatorial battle scenes rival the intensity and gut-churning reality of films such as Braveheart and Saving Private Ryan in every respect. Musically, Hans Zimmer's score is one of his best: although it still manages to work in references to several other patented Media Ventures efforts, the massive anthemic quality of his action music is still wonderfully effective in the context of the film, especially during the opening encounter with the Huns in Germania, and during the sensational battle between Proximo's gladiators and the chariots of death. Where Gladiator stands out more, though, is in the film's more dramatic scenes. The death of Marcus Aurelius simply drips with heavy tragedy, featuring a stunning cello solo, while some of the encounters between Maximus and Commodus reach almost operatic levels of drama and tension. Former Dead Can Dance member Lisa Gerrard lends her haunting, ethereal vocals to several tracks, lending Zimmer's music an other-wordly quality that captures Maximus's ultimate goal of joining his wife and child in the afterlife. The CD, on Decca, credits additional music to Klaus Badelt and Armenian musician Djivan Gasparian. Click here for a full review of Gladiator.
HANGING UP
DAVID HIRSCHFELDER
I had the misfortune of seeing this dire movie twice in one day - once on a flight between Manchester and New Jersey, and then again in mid-air between Newark and Los Angeles a few hours later. I had intentionally avoided seeing it at the cinemas where I live because I knew it was going to be bad, but when you're stuck on an aeroplane for god knows how long you'll do virtually anything to pass the time. Basically, it's a story about three self-absorbed sisters (party planner Meg Ryan, magazine magnate Diane Keaton and soap actress Lisa Kudrow), whose relationships have drifted apart so far that the only way they communicate is by fragmented phone calls. When their cantankerous father (Walter Matthau) is admitted to hospital with a mysterious illness, the three sisters find themselves very much in each others lives again, a situation that re-opens old wounds and re-ignites bitter arguments, before the inevitable "bonding" scene where past transgressions are forgiven with a quick hug and a statement of sisterly love. Although it purports to be a comedy, there are very few laughs in Hanging Up. There are very few tears either, resulting in a film which leaves its audience in a state of limbo - never quite sure whether to smile or cringe at the on-screen antics. Despite being written by Nora and Delia Ephron and directed by Diane Keaton, Hanging Up completely lacks everything a good movie needs: interesting characters, genuine emotion, a decent screenplay, a point... in fact, the only message the film seemed to be trying to convey was, if you want to rekindle your relationship with your siblings, get rid of your folks! In the midst of all this mess, composer David Hirschfelder tries ever-so-hard to wring something tangible with his music, but even he never quite hits the mark. Hirschfelder was a fairly late replacement for original composer Alan Silvestri, and several Silvestrian hallmarks are easily identifiable, especially the soft, feathery piano solo that anchors the score and the wash of strings that takes each gesture and embrace to almost operatic levels. The opening title is nice enough, featuring an amusing little orchestral scherzo, and several of the flashback scenes are cleverly done, incorporating synthesised glissando effects to add to the feeling of magic. It's all very nice, but not the kind of score one expects from the man behind Shine and Elizabeth. It seems as though everyone involved in this film dialled in their contribution. Click here for a full review of Hanging Up.
MAN ON THE MOON
REM
Until I read that Milos Forman was making a biopic of the American comedian Andy Kaufman, and I investigated the history of his subject a little further, I had absolutely no idea who he was. I had some kind of vague recollection that he was in the TV sitcom "Taxi", but I knew nothing about the man himself, what else he had done, or even that he died in 1984. The really bizarre thing is that, having now seen Man On The Moon, I still have no idea who he really was, even though some of the factual details of his life have been made clearer. You see, the whole idea of this movie is not to demystify a man who, to some, was a comic genius, but who to others was a oddball crackpot who merely annoyed a lot of people and hid behind funny voices You go to experience the world through his eyes, and with his sensibilities. In many ways, the Andy Kaufman influence is stamped all over Forman's direction, from the surreal yet hilarious opening segment and the intentionally flamboyant staging of some of the set pieces, to the old-fashioned sense of decency that permeates throughout. Like Kaufman, the film wants to entertain you, but make you think at the same time. Jim Carrey is absolutely sensational in the leading role, once again proving that he is an actor to be reckoned with when he wants to be, and further upstaging the Academy Award voters who snubbed him for a second time. Carrey doesn't just play Kaufman; he is almost a living, breathing reincarnation, and the subtleties of his performance combine with a seemingly unstoppable enthusiasm, whether he is playing Andy the frustrated artist, Andy the flamboyant performer, or even Tony Clifton the hateful Vegas lounge singer who Kaufman became when the mood took him. Danny De Vito, Courtney Love and the underrated Paul Giammati are all excellent as, respectively, Kaufman's agent, girlfriend and writing partner, while a bevy of familiar faces (wrestler Jerry Lawler, Marilu Henner, Judd Hirsch, Carol Kane, Christopher Lloyd, David Letterman) turn up as themselves to increase the sense of reality. And then there's the music. I'm always a little sceptical when it comes to rock groups writing film music. Bands like Queen, Tangerine Dream, Goblin, Toto, and even Los Lobos have tried it with varying levels of success. The American band REM, who have achieved great success in the UK over the years with songs such as "Shiny Happy People", What's The Frequency Kenneth" and the heartbreaking "Everybody Hurts", are entering the film music fray for the first time, although their front-man Michael Stipe has been involved in the industry as a writer and producer for some time. Stipe, along with fellow dreamers Mike Mills and Peter Buck, have written a score which is based in part on their own song, the eponymous "Man On The Moon" which was written in tribute to Kaufman some eight years ago, and a new ditty entitled "The Great Beyond", various instrumental permutations of which crop up throughout the film. There is no single defining theme in film, but more a series of orchestral textures which add an ambience and cinematic tone to the proceedings. They are all very nice in themselves, and are not at all "rockish" in their sound, instead complementing the visual elements in a manner that any good orchestral score by a regular composer would - the scene in which Kaufman visits the Philippines for what he hopes is life-saving treatment is especially well done. I feel I should mention music supervisor Pat McCarthy and orchestrators Xandy Janko and Eddie Horst, without whom I'm sure REM would not have been able to create the beautifully expressive orchestral themes that appear with unexpected, but pleasing regularity.
CIRCUS
SIMON BOSWELL
Bandwagons are funny things. When a film within a long-forgotten genre makes a splash at the box office, like Lock Stock and Two Smoking Barrels did two years ago, you can guarantee that a series of cheap and cheery knock-offs will hit cinema screens shortly thereafter. It happened post-Scream with self-aware horror stories such as IKWYDLS and Urban Legend, and now the British gangster thriller is making a comeback with Gangster No.1, a remake of Get Carter, and Circus, the first of the many to be released. Directed by first-timer Rob Walker and featuring an eclectic cast including John Hannah, Famke Janssen, Peter Stormare, Amanda Donohoe and British funnymen Brian Conley and Eddie Izzard in unexpected straight roles, Circus is an entertaining but terribly confusing thriller about a con man who finds his life turning upside down when his gambling debts start to mount up, a contract killing goes horribly wrong, and his wife's disgruntled former husband arrives from the USA set on revenge. It's not that Circus is a bad film per se - it's just that, with a little more thought, the viewers would not be left so confused, wondering who had done what to whom and why. Director Walker seems to take great delight in totally and utterly disorientating his audience - something which rarely happens to me - with twist upon twist upon twist. By the half way point, you're so mixed up and muddled that you simply don't care whether you are following the plot, and spend the rest of the movie laughing at Brian Conley attempting to look menacing. One aspect of the film which does work quite well is the unusual score by Simon Boswell, whose music is loud, vibrant, and almost techno in nature. Other than a "psychotic saxophone" that acts as a leitmotif for the Bruno Maitland character, Boswell's score is totally electronic, pulsing and thrusting in an attempt to breathe life into the film's narrative. It works, too, making a strangely pedestrian chase around the streets of Brighton seem much more exciting, while lending a gritty, dangerous and contemporary edge to Leo Garfield's increasingly frantic antics. At present, no CD of Boswell's score exists, and unless it appears very soon it is unlikely to do so at all, as there are no songs to speak of in the film either.
SCREAM 3
MARCO BELTRAMI
Surprise! It's actually a lot better than I thought it would be. With abysmal word of mouth from the vast majority of the American and British critics, I had been expecting the third and final instalment of Wes Craven's horror trilogy to be as dead as most of the series' characters: almost as though it had, at last, turned into the kind of film the first two movies took such great delight in lampooning. But Scream 3 is actually a genuinely entertaining, funny, scary, and even poignant coda to one of the most successful cinema franchises in recent history. The final chapter re-locates to Hollywood, where a film about the events in Scream 2 is being made, and where the good-natured Deputy Dewey (David Arquette) is on hand as a technical advisor. However, things begin to awry when Cotton Weary (Liev Schreiber), the man cleared of the Maureen Prescott murders from the first movie and now a successful talk-show host, is himself murdered, and soon the actors playing the characters in the movie are being bumped off as well. Intent on solving the mystery once and for all, Sidney Prescott (Neve Campbell), Gale Weathers (Courtney Cox-Arquette) and Dewey descend on movie land, locking horns with old Ghost-Face for a final time. The best thing about Scream 3 is Ehren Krueger's screenplay which, although written in a stupidly short time, manages to be clever, amusing and appropriate, effectively satirising the Hollywood studio system while simultaneously tying up all the loose ends from the previous two films so that it all makes sense. Although the ultimate conclusion does seem a little contrived, everything links together smoothly, so that fans of all three films (like me!) are smiling satisfied smiles as they leave the cinema, safe in the knowledge that they have understood everything. Wes Craven's direction is competent and assured, with several set pieces managing to be supremely scary when experienced on the big screen. A number of the supporting cast manage to steal scenes from the leads, notably Parker Posey as the actress playing Gale who thinks she knows her character better than she knows herself; Jamie Kennedy as the ubiquitous Randy who gives advice from beyond the grave; and Patrick Dempsey as the cop to whom there is more than meets the eye. Marco Beltrami's music is firmly rooted into the modern horror style that so typified his work on the earlier films, but as well writing as the usual stalking-and-slashing cues, Craven has allowed the young Italian to embrace his more melodic side. Three times during the film, Beltrami raises "Sidney's Theme" to glorious new heights, with an orchestra and full chorus lamenting for the awful plight of the lead character. Dewey's quasi-comical Duane Eddy style guitar theme crops up with appropriate regularity, while the rest of the time the Herrmannesque shrieks and red herring hits take centre stage. A highly satisfying conclusion to the trilogy, both musically and dramatically. Click here for a full review of Scream 3.
GALAXY QUEST
DAVID NEWMAN
In terms of out-and-out enjoyment, Galaxy Quest is the film of the year to date, and by a country mile at that. A spot-on parody of the Star Trek sub-culture of merchandising and conventions, Dean Parisot's superb film combines a genuine affection and nostalgia for all those cheesy 1960s sci-fi shows with an exciting action adventure story, a load of superb special effects, magnificent make-up by Stan Winston, and several fresh, energetic performances from the unlikely but brilliant cast. Tim Allen, Sigourney Weaver and Alan Rickman star as a trio of washed-up actors, former stars of the hit show "Galaxy Quest", who now make a living touring the convention circuit. Circumstances change, however, when a group of aliens from the planet Thermia mistake re-runs of the show for "historical documents", and seek the help of the actors to fight an interplanetary war for them. Initially unaware that, this time, the space travel is real, the intrepid thespians soon fall back into character. Not only is Galaxy Quest a hugely enjoyable film, with a great sense of visual grandeur, it is also very very funny. Alan Rickman, in his role as a disgruntled Shakespearean actor slumming it as an alien, gets all the best lines, while Tim Allen as the William Shatner "heroic captain" bears the brunt of his barbed asides. Sigourney Weaver is in top form as the blonde, buxom, lycra-clad communications officer whose sole purpose is to repeat everything the computer says, and there are superb extended cameos from Tony Shalhoub, Sam Rockwell and Enrico Colantoni as Mathasar, the Thermian with the high-pitched voice. Capping it all off is David Newman's addictive score, which contains one of the most hummable themes in recent memory. It's quite obviously derived from the Alexander Courage/Jerry Goldsmith school of scoring, but nevertheless works wonderfully well, cropping up in fanfaric style throughout the movie, and being malleable enough to conform to several moods. The action music (during the first attack on the Protector, during Nesmith's encounter with the rock monster, and during the entire finale) is first rate, and the ominous, echoing motif for Sarris effectively rekindles dormant musical memories of the Klingons. It's always a good sign when an audience applauds at the end of a movie; I haven't stopped whistling the theme since. Click here for a full review of Galaxy Quest.
THE STORY OF US
ERIC CLAPTON and MARC SHAIMAN
Although undoubtedly created as a vehicle to get Bruce Willis and Michelle Pfeiffer on-screen together, The Story of Us is a wholly peculiar romantic comedy-drama that actually looks at the effects of a marriage breaking up, rather than being a conventional boy-meets-girl love story. Told in flashback, and punctuated by a series of talking head monologues delivered straight to camera, the film follows the life of writer Ben Jordan (Willis) and his crossword puzzle creator wife Katie (Pfeiffer) - their initial meeting over a pith helmet, their courtship, the birth of their children, and the way they eventually drift apart. Aided and abetted by their friends and confidants (Rob Reiner, Paul Reiser, Rita Wilson, Julie Hagerty) Ben and Katie begin a period of trial separation, but find that being apart can sometimes be worse than living together. Despite having some laugh out loud comedy sequences (usually provided by the undercard) and several moments of genuine emotional pathos, The Story of Us is on the whole a rather dispiriting affair. Director Reiner's chosen method of framing the film only serves to break up the action, unnecessarily providing the viewer with stream-of-consciousness dialogue where a standard narrative structure would have sufficed. It also doesn't help that Willis and Pfeiffer spend far too much of the film screaming angrily in each other's faces, throwing bedding and slamming doors - far too much negative energy for my liking! In addition to this, we are forced to endure Rob Reiner once again thrusting his posterior in the direction of the audience, asking Willis to "look at his ass". I think Reiner must have some kind of backside fetish, as I seem to remember him asking Tom Hanks to do precisely the same thing in Sleepless in Seattle! In musical terms, The Story of Us is just a little disappointing. As one would expect, Eric Clapton's original score is 99% guitar-based, with several (admittedly technically brilliant and wonderfully expressive) solo performances underscoring key scenes. Occasionally, Clapton adds a self-performed vocal to the mix, singing in his unusual part-Cockney, part-Yank brogue. It's interesting to note that the credits, very carefully, list the music as being "composed and arranged by Eric Clapton WITH Marc Shaiman", leading me to assume that Shaiman's role was more in an advisory capacity, helping director Reiner with the more technical elements, and leaving Clapton to be creative. Just one scene - where Pfeiffer expresses her desire to "go to Chow Fung's" - bears any kind of Shaimanesque hallmarks, in which Clapton's solo guitar is gradually joined by a lush string orchestra, the only time such an occurrence takes place. The soundtrack features twenty or so short score cuts along with songs by Fats Waller, Teddy Wilson and The Andrews Sisters.
AMERICAN PSYCHO
JOHN CALE
Mary Harron's fascinating adaptation of the controversial best-seller by Bret Easton Ellis, American Psycho is a film which, by turns, is an exploration of a man's inner turmoil, an effective thriller, and a scathing satire on 1980's consumerism and narcissism. Christian Bale stars as Patrick Bateman, a Wall Street stockbroker who, by his own admission, "is simply not there". Driven by corporate one-upmanship, obsessed by the ideal of physical and material perfection, and living a life dominated by designer labels, casual sex, cocaine and discotheques, Bateman finds his life cracking around him, to the point where he begins to develop murderous fantasies. When colleague Paul Allen (Jared Leto) upstages him in a boardroom meeting, Bateman contrives to lure him to his spotless Manhattan apartment and cleave his skull in two with an axe. When private investigator Donald Kimball (Willem Dafoe) begins to investigate Allen's disappearance, a spiral of madness and murder begins for Bateman, as prostitutes, colleagues, friends and strangers all meet with terrible ends. A late replacement for Danny Elfman, John Cale's original score is intentionally classical-sounding, almost to the point of overtness. It's possibly a reflection of Bateman's perceptions of "perfection", in the same way that he offers up impromptu music review monologues, critiquing the songs of Phil Collins, Whitney Houston and Huey Lewis while he prepares to carry out his murderous killing sprees. Whatever the intellectual reasoning behind the score, it certainly works well, and is one of the most unexpectedly good efforts of the year so far. Much of the music is written solely for strings - a subliminal echo of Bernard Herrmann's earlier psychosis sufferer - with a beautiful, Mozartian piano motif that accompanies Bateman's daily preening routine of facial scrubs, revitalising shower gels and alcohol-free aftershaves. There is some frantic work towards the end of the film as Bateman desperately runs through the city streets, and the opening title sequence is a clever piece of musical choreography, consisting of a little pizzicato motif punctuated by deep cello chords that coincide with drops of "blood" that run down the screen. The trickery is revealed, though, when the drops of blood turn out to be nothing more than a raspberry coulis adorning a plateful of nouvelle cuisine. The soundtrack is, unfortunately, much more geared up towards 80s pop nostalgia than Cale's original music, which is limited to just three tracks, all of which feature dialogue. For aficionados of the decade, though, there should be plenty to appreciate, with songs such as "True Faith" by New Order, remixes of tracks by David Bowie and The Cure, and the seminal disco anthem "Pump Up The Volume" by M/A/R/R/S dominating proceedings.
UP AT THE VILLA
PINO DONAGGIO
No, not a day in the life of one of Britain's top football teams, but a new adaptation of W. Somerset Maugham's classic tale of sex, society and murder set against the backdrop of Fascist pre-war Italy. Kristin Scott-Thomas stars as Mary Panton, a British woman in Florence, unhappily betrothed to the formal, stuffy but reliable diplomat Sir Edgar Swift (James Fox). Given three days to mull over his proposal of marriage, and urged on by her friend and confidant Anne Bancroft, Mary takes pity on a young Austrian refugee who has escaped to Italy in an attempt to avoid the Anschluss, and sleeps with him at her villa. With an unspoken agreement that the liaison would simply be a one-night stand, Mary is shocked when the young man returns the following night expecting the same treatment, and is even more shocked when he shoots himself after she rebuffs him. And so Mary begins a desperate attempt to dispose of the body, cover her tracks and clear her name, enlisting the help of dashing American gentleman Rowley Flint (Sean Penn). As the tension rises and the Italian authorities close in, Mary and Rowley slowly and unexpectedly begin to fall in love with each other. Up At The Villa is an enjoyable, if a little old-fashioned romantic drama, competently directed by Philip Haas from his sister Belinda's script. The unusual thing about the film is that, for a film which is basically all about emotion, is it a strangely un-emotional experience, with all the formal courtship rituals and standoffishness usually associated with British colonials. Kristin Scott Thomas is good in the lead role, delivering a nice line in shocked expressions and moments of hysteria. Sean Penn is subdued but charming in support, and Derek Jacobi is hilarious in a cameo as Lucky Leadbetter, an unbelievably effete ex-pat who wears a straw hat and leers longingly at all the waiters. Tackling his first Hollywood film for a while, Italian composer Pino Donaggio has drawn inspiration from the splendid Tuscan scenery and written a longing, romantic score for a full orchestra, one of his most beautiful works in years, and which will undoubtedly appeal to fans of Gabriel Yared. Delicate, gently evocative themes accompany Mary traversing the lush countryside, while passionate piano and string writing allows the blossoming romance between Mary and Rowley to reach the heights their character's social standing forbids them from doing in real life. The score does get a little darker around the time of the murder and its ensuing investigation, but on the whole this is a gorgeous, romantic treat. Click here for a full review of Up at the Villa.
MISSION TO MARS
ENNIO MORRICONE
There has been so much negative reaction to Mission To Mars - both the film and the score - that I admit I approached it with a great deal of trepidation. And while Brian De Palma's Kubrick-inspired space epic is by no means the cerebral, thought-provoking masterpiece he intended, it is certainly not as bad as the critics would have us all believe. The character interaction and screenplay is not particularly inspiring, and the acting leaves a little to be desired, but the film's heart is most definitely in the right place, and it at least tries to offer a new and intelligent perspective on the nature of humanity, even if it is not entirely successful. In addition to this, the special effects are simply breathtaking, while shots of the Martian surface are staggeringly beautiful, and as realistic as they would be had the film actually been shot there. The plot concerns the first manned trip to Mars which, under the guidance of astronaut Don Cheadle, successfully lands on the surface of the red planet. However, while exploring a huge mountain near their base camp, the crew are attacked by a huge dust storm which seemingly appears from out of the peak. With communications down, a rescue mission is launched: good natured captain Tim Robbins, his wife Connie Nielsen, unpredictable co-pilot Gary Sinise and rookie Jerry O'Connell are dispatched in their state of the art space craft to find out what happened and bring back the survivors - if there are any. Generally ignoring the "peril in space" scenario, Italian maestro Ennio Morricone has instead composed music which reflects the inherent romanticism of discovery, and which seeks to illustrate the hopes, dreams and fears of the people involved. It is by no means a traditional sci-fi score, but it nevertheless works superbly - a lyrical, heartbreaking orchestral coda for the human spirit. The controversial church organ cue, despised by many critics, underscores a scene in which the rescue crew battle against the potentially catastrophic after-effects of a mini-meteorite storm, and generates a great deal of tension as they desperately try to plug the holes which threaten to suck all the oxygen from their ship. Morricone's beautiful string lines and noble, heroic horn melodies offer several moments of great emotional depth - notably during the spacewalk from the REMO, where one of the astronauts valiantly gives his life to save the others; and the especially during the film's slightly misguided finale, where the secret of the Mars mountain is revealed in just a little too much detail. In my opinion, a degree of ambiguity at the end would have allowed the film to retain a little bit of mystery, and as a result left the audience to make up their own mind as to the true nature of the red planet's secret. For the first 100 minutes, Mission To Mars is an engrossing, enjoyable rumination on life and space, which is spoiled at the end by just a little too much literalness. Click here for a full review of Mission To Mars.
LAKE PLACID
JOHN OTTMAN
Fun with killer crocodiles. Lake Placid is a dumb, predictable, but brainlessly enjoyable movie for the popcorn crowd. It promises, and delivers, nothing more than a few cheap thrills and a harmless evening's entertainment, but for all it's star pedigree and financial backing, it's really no better than any of the other recent Jaws wannabes like Anaconda and Deep Blue Sea. Bill Pullman and Bridget Fonda star as, respectively, a fish and game warden and a New York palaeontologist who arrive at a lake in upstate Maine following several grisly deaths on the water. With gruff sheriff Brendan Gleeson and batty mythologist Oliver Platt along for the ride, the intrepid quartet head out on to the lake to uncover the mystery, but find much more than they bargained. With a gutting, a few decapitations, and a set piece involving a cow and helicopter, Lake Placid moves a long a fair old clip with plenty of action to keep less discerning viewers happy, but on the whole this is a pretty tame affair, even by monster movie standards. In fact, the only things worth remembering are the many vicious verbal put-downs that litter the script, courtesy of writer and Ally McBeal creator David E. Kelley. With so little inspiration, it's no wonder that John Ottman's score is by far the worst of his career to date, and although it is serviceable enough in the film, it by no means sets it alight. A deep, growling motif for the reptilian rascal himself is heard whenever something nasty is about to happen, and there are several decent enough action sequences that can just be heard underneath all the splashing and screaming. Bookending things is an ominous cello-led theme, which more often than not accompanies the camera as it scuds across the surface of the lake, or pans up and around the mountainous panoramas of the Maine countryside. Ottman's album is available on Varèse Sarabande, but I would recommend caution: unless you absolutely adored the film, you are likely to find it somewhat unappealing. Click here for a full review of Lake Placid.
ERIN BROCKOVICH
THOMAS NEWMAN
A cracking legal drama with a sassy, sexy edge, Erin Brockovich is based on a true story and stars Julia Roberts in the lead role as a single mom who, armed with nothing more than determination and a pair of boobs, takes on the might of a huge corporation accused of poisoning the water supply of a small California town. Following a car crash in which she loses an open-and-shut case, Erin virtually forces her lawyer Ed Masry (Albert Finney) to give her a job as a filing clerk. But after she discovers some medical records in a real estate file, she begins to dig deeper into the background of the case against PG&A, and uncovers a hotbed of corruption. With direction by Steven Soderbergh and a top-notch cast, Erin Brockovich is a superbly crafted film which manages to be entertaining and continually amusing while still carrying a pertinent message. Roberts is a revelation in the lead role - a mother of three with unconventional dress sense and a somewhat foul mouth, but whose truthfulness and disarming attitude wins the respect of her clients and gains her access to more information than her colleagues ever dreamed. Albert Finney is also back on top form after a few years out of the limelight, admirably holding his own as Julia's foil, despite being saddled with a difficult accent and a series of disgusting neckties. The support from Aaron Eckart as Erin's biker boyfriend, Peter Coyote as a hotshot attorney and Marg Helgenberger as a stricken resident is equally impressive, while the screenplay by Susannah Grant is eminently quotable, with a number of side-splitting one-liners which disarm both the on-screen recipient and the audience with equal measure. The music for Erin Brockovich is by Thomas Newman, whose work on this movie seems to combine the eclectic ensemble of American Beauty with the upbeat, rocking tempos of Fried Green Tomatoes. His main theme is a catchy ditty for a solo piano that comes across as being almost bluesy in nature, and admirably captures the spirit and effervescence of Erin in one fell swoop. Unfortunately, the underscore proper is less well-defined, and spends more time engaging in tuneless mood-setting than anything else - so much so that I find myself having trouble recalling the specifics of any of the cues where the piano theme does not appear. The soundtrack for Erin Brockovich is available on Sony Classical, and features a large proportion of Newman's score along with several songs - one of which, Sheryl Crow's "Every Day Is A Winding Road" - plays over the end titles.
LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST
PATRICK DOYLE
The bard meets Broadway. Shakespeare with show tunes. Those descriptions pretty much sum up Love's Labour's Lost, Kenneth Branagh's latest literary adaptation which sees the verbose language of Elizabethan England brought bang up to date with a series of showstoppers by George Gershwin, Cole Porter and Irving Berlin. Love's Labour's Lost is one of Will's least-performed plays, but pretty much conforms to all the usual clichés and maxims associated with his writing: a king (Alessandro Nivola) and his three associates (Branagh, Matthew Lillard and Adrian Lester) decree that henceforth they shall devote all their time to scholarly pursuits, forgoing the sins of the flesh for three years. Their plans are quickly shattered, though, upon the arrival of a visiting princess (Alicia Silverstone) and her three escorts (Natascha McElhone, Carmen Ejogo and Emily Mortimer) - with whom all three men quickly fall head over heels in love. All-singing all-dancing extravaganzas are not commonplace in this period of the cinema, but director Branagh's affinity for the MGM classics of the 1940s and 50s is apparent in his staging of the musical set pieces - there are none-too-subtle tips of the hat to Busby Berkeley and Esther Williams. The entire cast seem to be thriving on every moment - after all it must be a performer's dream to do Shakespeare AND be in a musical at the same time - but a few problems arise with the fact that not many of them can sing or dance with the anything like the panache of the Astaires, Kellys and Rogers of this world. But, eventually, the sheer charm and ebullience of the production just wins you over, and you wind up tapping your toes, laughing along with the film instead of at it. Of the songs, Adrian Lester's velvety performance of "I've Got A Crush On You" is a highlight, as is the spine-tingling finale "They Can't Take That Away From Me", and extra-special mention should be made of Brian Gascoigne's electrifying arrangement of "Let's Face the Music and Dance", which somehow becomes an erotically-charged festival of barely-bridled passion. And then there is Patrick Doyle's score, a lush, vibrant, exquisite celebration of love. From the huge statement of the main theme in the opening titles and the heraldic arrival of the princesses in Navarre, to the heartbreakingly romantic closing scenes in which the princes and princess finally declare their feelings for each other despite the most circumstances, Doyle's musical tapestry binds the whole movie together with beauty, grace and typical restraint. In short, it's gorgeous. Although some may find Branagh's entire concept hard to swallow, the musical talent on show is nothing short of pure genius. As a side note, the version of Love's Labour's Lost I saw was preceded by a short film called "Z", which told the tale of a young boy who wakes up the day after the millennium to find everybody has gone to sleep, and who remain that way - until he gently kisses them on the cheek. The playful orchestral score for the short film was written by James Shearman, who was one of the conductors on the main feature. Click here for a full review of Love's Labour's Lost.
THE HURRICANE
CHRISTOPHER YOUNG
Prison dramas bring out the best in Christopher Young, as his new movie The Hurricane attests. Unselfconsciously directed by Norman Jewison, the film stars a magnificent Denzel Washington in the title role as Rubin Hurricane Carter, a promising boxer from New Jersey whose life was shattered when, in 1962, he was framed by a bitter detective (Dan Hedaya) and jailed for life for a crime he did not commit - the murder of three white men in a bar. Dedicating himself to self-improvement while locked away from society, Rubin wrote an angry, powerful autobiography entitled "The Sixteenth Round" and - over a decade later - inspired a young boy named Lesra Martin and his four Canadian tutors to dedicate themselves to fighting for Carter's cause. It's a fascinating character study of a flawed but decent man, of a totally corrupt system, and of the ultimately successful bid to have him freed. As I mentioned, Washington is totally mesmerising in the lead role, giving a performance which oscillates from introverted, almost zen-like calm to furious anger, frustration and unstoppable violence in the ring. John Hannah, Deborah Kara Unger and Liev Schreiber radiate decency as the three Canadian do-gooders, while newcomer Vicellous Reon Shannon acquits himself admirably in the company of the master thespians. Chris Young's score as heard in the film is certainly good, but it is not the emotional powerhouse it is on CD, with the deep, haunting string lines ending up being a little overshadowed by his own more upbeat cues and the prominent source music (which includes several renditions of Bob Dylan's song "The Hurricane", which was itself inspired by Carter's story). The funky, soft jazz that Young regularly produces these days underscores the scenes of Carter's early years, with hammond organs, trumpets and doo-wop vocals taking centre stage in recognition of the tough, cock-sure young fighter whose life is about to dramatically change. The scenes of Carter's incarceration in "the hole" are the most tragic, and feature the heartbreaking cello solos that added the same sense of despair and loneliness to Murder In The First, while the joyous courtroom finale is underscored with a celebratory orchestral fanfare, a triumphant coda for a miscarriage of justice overturned a couple of decades too late. There are two albums of music from The Hurricane - a compilation featuring songs by the likes of Boyz II Men, K-Ci and Jojo, Black Star and of course Bob Dylan; and a score-only release of Young's music. Click here for a full review of The Hurricane.
GIRL INTERRUPTED
MYCHAEL DANNA
Girl Interrupted has been described as "One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest with chicks", and that pretty much sums up the movie. Based on the memoirs by Susanna Kaysen and directed by James Mangold, the film stars Winona Ryder as a young woman in late 1960s middle American who is diagnosed with a borderline personality disorder and sent to a secure psychiatric unit. In their care, she encounters a number of people - confrontational fellow patient Lisa (Angelina Jolie), compulsive liar Georgina (Clea Duvall), self-mutilator Daisy (Brittany Murphy), and tough-love nurse Valerie (Whoopi Goldberg) - all of whom have an effect on Susanna's life. There are moments of high drama, high comedy and lots of soul-searching in Girl Interrupted, and although the performances of all concerned are admirable (especially the Oscar-winning Jolie), it's all just a little to cosy and predictable. It's a classic scenario: a group of social misfits bring about a dramatic change in a misunderstood loner, resulting in a parable about the nature of friendship, and the necessity for tolerance of others. We've seen it a million times before, and we'll see it a million times again in different guises. The thing that lifts Girl Interrupted are the four or five central performances, the unusually effective direction from James Mangold, and the fact that the whole thing is a true story. It's difficult to understand how people can be so cruel and unforgiving in such an enlightened age, and it is to Kaysen's benefit that she emerged from the experience relatively unscathed. Mychael Danna's score picks up the mantle from Ride With The Devil, and is one of his most enjoyable works. Traditional scoring techniques for acoustic guitars, woodwinds and ever-so-soft strings are complemented by some of Danna's familiar ethnic touches and phrases, as well as some innovative work by The Glass Orchestra, whose haunting, almost alien tones lend a touch of the surreal to the proceedings. Although Danna's main theme is pretty much a variation of RWTD's love theme, it nevertheless sounds lovely, providing the film with a subtly romantic musical anchor. The TVT soundtrack features 18 tracks of Danna's score with a dozen or so songs by Petula Clark, Aretha Franklin, The Mamas and the Papas, Jefferson Airplane and others. Click here for a full review of Girl Interrupted.
THE CIDER HOUSE RULES
RACHEL PORTMAN
John Irving's novel The Cider House Rules is an exploration of the controversial abortion issue dressed up as an attractive love story, and Lasse Hallström film of the book is a majestic, sweeping drama that fleshes out Irving's words into a hugely satisfying motion picture. Tobey Maguire stars as Homer Wells, the eldest inhabitant of a New England orphanage owned by the kindly Dr. Larch (Oscar-winner Michael Caine), who also provides a safe but illegal abortion service to the young women of the district. Under Dr. Larch's tutelage, Homer becomes a skilled doctor, but yearns to see the world beyond the orphanage walls. An opportunity presents itself in the shape of unmarried couple Candy (Charlize Theron) and Wally (Paul Rudd), who partake of Larch's services, and who agree to take Homer with them to work on their apple farm. However, when Wally is called up for war, Candy and Homer are left alone... The Cider House Rules is a sweet, wholesome film which works its magic with simple charm and honest sentiment. In a way, Hallström's film is somewhat old-fashioned in its rose-tinted view of the world, and the way in which the naïve Homer views it. Tobey Maguire and Charlize Theron are excellent as the young lovers central to the film, and Michael Caine is good-natured to the hilt as the caring, careful gynaecologist who bids his charges "Good night you princes of Maine, you kings of New England" each night. But, as well as the love story, there is an underlying message exploring the issues surrounding abortion - it's pros and cons, and the way in which, in the right hands and with the correct mindset, it can be a blessing for all involved. Rachel Portman's subtle, beautiful score is as important in creating a mood as Oliver Stapleton's windswept cinematography and the authentic art direction. The delicacy of the four-note piano theme, the lush sweep of her strings, and the huge emotional content make her work easily one of the best scores of the year, and one of the best of Portman's career. Several scenes remain long in the memory as a result of the music - during the opening titles, when Homer leaves the orphanage with Candy; when Homer returns to for Larch's funeral, and during the end credits. I sincerely doubt whether I will hear a lovelier score in 2000. Click here for a full review of The Cider House Rules.
MAGNOLIA
JON BRION
A twelve-way character study, Magnolia is director Paul Thomas Anderson's exploration of truth, love and death in modern day Los Angeles, in which the loosely connected lives of a dozen or so people are altered forever by a moment of sheer chance. Frank T.J. Mackey (Tom Cruise) is a popular sex guru whose estranged father, game show producer Earl Partridge (Jason Robards), is dying of cancer. As Earl's nurse Phil Parma (Philip Seymour Hoffman) desperately tries to track Frank down, Earl's wife Linda (Julianne Moore) is having a major crisis of faith as she picks up prescriptions for her stricken husband. Meanwhile, game show host Jimmy Gator (Philip Baker Hall) is having just as bad a day: he too has been diagnosed with cancer, but his wife Rose (Melinda Dillon) responds by getting drunk, and his coke-snorting daughter Claudia (Melora Walters) wants nothing to do with him, although she is trying to turn her life around by embarking upon a hesitant relationship with kindly cop Jim Kurring (John C. Reilly). Jimmy's show, "What Do Kids Know", is descending into farce after child star Stanley Spector (Jeremy Blackman) refuses to take part live on air in an act of rebellion against his overbearing father Rick (Michael Bowen). As all this unfolds, one of the show's former stars, Quiz Kid Donnie Smith (William H. Macy) finds himself tuning in, despite cracking under the pressure of his huge financial problems and his closeted homosexuality. And then the really bizarre occurrences start to set in... Anderson's film seems to delight in the fact that, sometimes, the most peculiar things happen to the most ordinary people, and bookends his film with a droll voice-over describing just that. But, ignoring the absurdity, Magnolia weaves into its fabric a multitude of themes to which virtually everyone should be able to relate. The film is obsessed with the nature of guilt - personal crimes of the heart which weigh heavily on the minds of the perpetrators, and which cast a shadow over everything they do. Anderson's writing and direction are sheer perfection, and the photography and editing are also top notch, but the element which stands out the most is the level of realism and intensity that Anderson coaxes out his ensemble ensemble cast. Quite simply, they are breathtaking. Magnolia sees the appearance of Tom Cruise the actor as opposed to Tom Cruise the film star, and his performance is by turns powerful, guarded and heartbreaking. Special mention should also go to John C. Reilly as the cop with a heart of gold, and the brilliant Philip Seymour Hoffman as the emotional male nurse. I admit that Jon Brion's score for Magnolia took me completely by surprise, firstly because I had never heard of him before, and secondly because it sounds so good. Although made up purely of shifting orchestral textures, Brion's music is like a cross between Michael Nyman and Philip Glass when they are both on top form - lovely string melodies, lush orchestral accompaniment and a generally soothing demeanour which plays at odds with the intense emotions shown by all the lead characters. Several individual musical moments stand out from the others - Stanley's arrival at the studio, when Jim Kurring is searching for his gun in the rain, and the amphibious finale being of special note. Complementing Brion's score are Aimee Mann's quintet of original songs, 'You Do', 'Momentum', 'Build That Wall', the Oscar-nominated 'Save Me', and the superb 'Wise Up', which is performed by Mann, but who is accompanied on-screen by all the lead characters in a musical montage that takes the breath away. Two album of Magnolia music are available - a compilation of Mann's songs, and a newly-released CD of Brion's score.
A CLOCKWORK ORANGE
WENDY CARLOS
One might find it a little odd that I am reviewing Stanley Kubrick's 1971 masterpiece A Clockwork Orange as though it were a new film but, for all intents and purposes, and for the majority of the British cinema-going public, it is. Upon its initial release, several violent crimes were committed in the UK, several of which were though to have been as a direct result of the perpetrators watching this film. Kubrick himself immediately withdrew it from circulation, stipulating that it must not be shown in the UK until after his death... and so here we are today. Few people in the UK under the age of 25 have legally been able to see this film until now. A Clockwork Orange is, of course, based on the classic novel by Anthony Burgess and is set in a not too distant future society where, in an attempt to rebel against the stifling, totalitarian regime, young Alex (Malcolm McDowell) and his fellow "droogs" embrace a lifestyle of liberating violence and sexual depravity. Set to the music of Beethoven, Alex and his cohorts wreak havoc within their community, until he is finally incarcerated and made to undergo a series of horrific bouts of "aversion therapy" in a last, desperate attempt to cure him. Even some 29 years later, A Clockwork Orange still packs a powerful punch for contemporary audiences, even if some of the supposedly futuristic elements of the storyline and the peculiar rhyming patois spoken by the droogs does seem a little dated. The social and political comment - whether it is morally correct to remove a man's capacity for free thought, even for the benefit of society as a whole - remains a potent talking point, as does the exploration of the sexually euphoric nature of violence. Kubrick's flair for powerful visual imagery still has the capacity to shock, with several now-famous scenes (the rape of Mrs. Alexander, the attack on the vagrant, the murder of the cat lady and the terribly disturbing therapy scenes in which Alex's eyes are held open by metal clamps) remaining in the subconscious long after the film has finished. Malcolm McDowall's lead performance is a master class in savage beauty, a protagonist who is wholly amoral but who still somehow manages to generate great sympathy from the audience, as well as being drolly amusing in his own sick way. A Clockwork Orange's music was written by Wendy Carlos, back when she was still a man and called Walter. However, the parts which most people will remember are the classical extracts - Beethoven's 5th and 9th Symphonies, Rossini's William Tell Overture, Elgar's Pomp and Circumstance, and of course the horribly distorted rendition of "Singin' In The Rain" that accompanies Alex's unstoppable assault on one of his victims. Carlos's re-arrangement of these legendary pieces into virtually unrecognisable synthesised mock-ups adds to their chilling power when taken in context - a comment on the way in which the most innocuous thing can become callous and corrupt in the wrong hands. Carlos's own music, written in collaboration with Rachel Elkind, is generally made up of mesmeric electronic tones, playing at odds with the flowery lushness of Gioacchino, Edward and the beautiful Ludwig Van. A CD of A Clockwork Orange has just been released by Carlos herself, and can be ordered from her website at www.wendycarlos.com. Alternatively, the original Warner album released back in the 70s should still be available.
BEING JOHN MALKOVICH
CARTER BURWELL
In terms of concept, Being John Malkovich is quite possibly the most brilliant - and most bizarre film to come out of Hollywood in several years. First timers Spike Jonze (director) and Charlie Kaufman (screenwriter) have crafted a movie which is part oddball comedy, part love story, part existential fantasy - wildly ludicrous, yet grounded in a familiar realism. John Cusack stars as Craig Schwartz, an out-of-work puppeteer who, in order to support his pet shop owner wife Lotte (Cameron Diaz in a fright wig), takes a job as a filing clerk which inhabits the 71/2th floor of a Manhattan office block. To even get to the 71/2th floor, one has to press the emergency stop on the elevator somewhere between seven and eight, and crowbar the doors open, so that gives you an idea of the kind of working environment Craig endures. Then, in an even more peculiar quirk of fate, Craig accidentally discovers a doorway hidden behind one of the filing cabinets that reveals a muddy tunnel which, when traversed, allows the inquisitive to enter the mind of the actor John Malkovich - to hear his voice, see through his eyes, and experience his physical sensations. The experience only lasts for 15 minutes, however, after which you are dumped into a ditch at the side of the New Jersey turnpike. Sensing an opportunity to make some big bucks, Craig teams up with his sex-crazed colleague Maxine (Catherine Keener) to sell tickets offering the opportunity to "become someone else". Everything goes well - until Malkovich himself rumbles the scheme. It's a wholly peculiar, but strangely engaging movie, anchored in no small part by Malkovich's performance as a suave, ultra-sophisticated caricature of himself. When he breathes "shall we to the boudoir?" to the delectable Maxine, one cannot help but imagine the fun he must have had delivering that line, and how he must wish he could legitimately get away with something like that in real life. Cusack, Diaz and Keener are all on top form in their leading roles, especially the two female leads who undergo a kind of character reversal, with the former model gleefully degrading herself by wearing a shocking perm, terrible clothes, and willingly sharing a cage with a monkey. Carter Burwell's original score is about as quirky and offbeat as one could expect from the man who composes more music for quirky and offbeat films than anyone else. It's all familiar stuff, and instantly recognisable as a Burwell score, with string lines, heavy bass, prominent percussion and a low, mournful theme holding it all together - although this time much of the melodic content is also transferred to a solo piano. In fact, the most memorable music is not composer by Burwell, whose work seems to be undertaking more of a cementing job than coming to the fore in any way. The thunderous opening, accompanying Craig's would-be epic puppet show, is actually an extract from Bartok's Allegro, while the hilarious lounge music from John's alternate reality, where the vocalist croons "Malkovich, malkovich, malkovich malkovich" as though it were the sexiest love song in the world, is by Nick Peck.
JOAN OF ARC
ERIC SERRA
Anyone who read my review of The Messenger CD will already know my feelings about Eric Serra's wannabe epic score - it misses the mark more than it hits, is far too derivative of the classics, and spends far too much of its time engaging in dreadful electronic thumping. The surprising thing is that, in the film, it sounds immeasurably better. Luc Besson has, in effect, made a French version of Braveheart, with as much mud, blood, passion and fury as Mel Gibson's Oscar-winning Scottish war saga. Joan of Arc (the name given to The Messenger for its European release) is a full-on version of the timeless legend of Jeanne D'Arc, a 14th-century peasant girl who, after experiencing powerful religious visions as a child, convinced the French royal court to give her an army, which she duly led to victory against the invading English in Orleans. However, as reward for her pains, she was betrayed by the King's advisors, sold to the English by the Burgundians, and was burnt at the stake as a heretic in the ancient city of Rouen - aged just 19. There is much to admire in Besson's work, with the performance of former model Milla Jovovich at the top of the list. Jovovich plays Jeanne with a degree of ambiguity, which intriguingly allows the viewer to question her very being - was she really an instrument of God, or a delusional religious fanatic? Was she so traumatised by the death of her family at the hands of the English that she swore revenge, or was she really acting on behalf of a higher power? These issues are never fully answered, and Jovovich's angry performance is open to interpretation. Support from John Malkovich, Dustin Hoffman and Faye Dunaway (who has never looked so unattractive) bolsters Jovovich's work, while Darius Khondji's realistic cinematography takes the viewer deep into the heart of the battles in the same way as John Toll did on Braveheart. Khondji also indulges in some effective time-lapse photography and jarring steadicam sequences to perfectly illustrate Jeanne's increasingly disturbing visions. Serra's musical intentions are more apparent when heard alongside the visuals, subsequently making much sense than they do as a standalone CD. His main theme for Jeanne is still far too similar to Puccini for my liking, but the grace and beauty with which it is performed complements the setting perfectly. Similarly, the "muddy" electronic thumping add a real hallucinatory quality to Jeanne's dream sequences, especially the ones in which she encounters a beatific Christ-like figure. His action cues are suitably stirring, especially during the victorious attack on the Orleans tourelle, and the Orff-esque finale of Jeanne at the stake has a touch of tragic majesty. Joan of Arc is a superb film which deserves to be seen, and those who have not yet experienced Serra's score should DEFINITELY see the movie before buying it. Doing things the other way around is likely to put you off Eric Serra for life - if GoldenEye hasn't done so already, that is. Click here for a full review of Joan of Arc.
WHATEVER HAPPENED TO HAROLD SMITH?
HARRY GREGSON-WILLIAMS
In just five years, my home city of Sheffield has gone from being a cinematic no-go area to one of the most popular places to set a British film. Hot on the heels of the three movies (When Saturday Comes, Among Giants and the Oscar-winning The Full Monty) and the TV mini-series (The Last Train) filmed within its limits, the latest big-screen vehicle is Whatever Happened To Harold Smith?, a 1970s disco-era romantic comedy with a just touch of magic. Tom Courteney stars as the eponymous Harold, a down to earth father of two, whose placid nature disguises an amazing talent - he can move objects with the power of his mind. After a visit to an old people's home goes tragically wrong, Harold is arrested and charged with making three pacemakers stop working, and becomes an overnight celebrity. Meanwhile, his disco-obsessed son Vince (Michael Legge) is becoming increasingly enamoured with his shy work colleague Joanna (Laura Fraser), who unbeknown to Vince, is a weekend punk. It's a lightweight movie with some surreal imagery (when was the last time you saw Lulu shinning up a drainpipe or a host of floating tortoises?) and several laugh-out loud moments, notably as a result David Thewlis's "turd tash" and Stephen Fry's ultra-modern thinking. Musically, the film inhabits three worlds: that of disco, punk and the funky underscore by Harry Gregson-Williams. Classic songs by the likes of The Bee Gees, The Real Thing The Buzzcocks, The Sex Pistols, The Stranglers and The Clash battle it out in the war of medallions and flares vs. mohicans and safety pins, and make for a wonderfully retro movie-going experience for anyone with an affinity for the music of the era - like me (although I must admit to having a slight leaning towards the flares...). With the proliferation of songs, Gregson-Williams was left with little to do, but still managed to make a positive impression with some cracking pop beats that capture the energy of the era, and a lovely piano theme to accompany the blossoming romance between Vince and Joanna. On a personal note, I just wanted to say that, having lived in Sheffield virtually all my life, it was great to see so many familiar sights up on the silver screen. The scene where Stephen Fry is running around in his tracksuit was filmed in the quadrangle of Firth Court, about 2 minutes away from where I work. The entire finale was shot in the Leadmill nightclub, where I myself have whiled away may happy hours dancing to pretty much the same music. And I was especially pleased to see my mate Mick Flint (who I haven't seen for a while) in an uncredited cameo as the long-haired nursing home porter who wheels out all the unfortunate pensioners!
THE INSIDER
LISA GERRARD and PIETER BOURKE
Despite being not much more than a series of conversations and protracted telephone calls, The Insider is still one of the best motion pictures of the year, thanks mainly to a trio of excellent performances, Michael Mann's intricate direction and Dante Spinotti's probing, incessant use of elaborate close-ups and balletic camerawork. The film is based on the true story of Jeffrey Wigand, a scientist with a leading tobacco manufacturer, whose revelations about the immoral company practices in which he unwilling took part to a producer from the TV documentary series 60 Minutes turned him into a media celebrity, but jeopardised the safety his family. In the central role is New Zealand actor Russell Crowe, who gained weight and toned down his normally impressive on-screen persona to take the part of the edgy, indecisive Wigand. A man torn between doing the right thing by his family and serving the public's interests, Wigand is not your typical movie hero, but Crowe's performance makes you wholly sympathetic to his plight. As well as acting as a damning indictment of the tobacco industry, The Insider is also a thoughtful exploration of the nature of TV journalism, which is where Al Pacino and Christopher Plummer come into their own as, respectively, the dogged producer and slightly sleazy front man of 60 Minutes. Mann gives both actors an opportunity to get their teeth into some meaty dialogue and give some showboating speeches, but despite the verbal pyrotechnics they display, Pacino and Plummer still deliver powerfully truthful performances. Pacino is especially good, toning down his usual combustible nature a notch to portray a man whose dedication to the pursuit of the truth is the driving force of his life. The Insider's score is by former Dead Can't Dance member Lisa Gerrard and Pieter Bourke who, along with composer Graeme Revell (credited with "additional music"), provide an unusually textured score which does not make any particular comment on the scenes at hand, but instead provides a general mood. By far the most memorable music is the recurring piece which combines an ethereal, new-age style synthesiser melody with a wailing muezzin-like Arabic vocal, which has no real reason for being in the picture but nevertheless sounds great. Much of the rest of the score is made up of structured, ambient textures which waft lazily behind the action, playing at odds with the incredibly intimate and detailed cinematography, but somehow complementing it as well. It's an oddity, to be sure, but one which works in context.
THE GREEN MILE
THOMAS NEWMAN
Despite being a bum-numbing three and a half hours long, The Green Mile is a fine example of a motion picture, filled with at least half a dozen superb performances, a compelling subject matter, and several moments which make you laugh out loud and shed a tear or two in equal measure. The Green Mile is a prison drama based on a Stephen King novel, directed by Frank Darabont, and it's not as good as The Shawshank Redemption - so put any potential comparisons out of mind. Tom Hanks plays Paul Edgecomb, the head guard on the death row of a Southern penitentiary, whose life revolves around his loving wife (Bonnie Hunt), his colleagues (stoical David Morse, inexperienced Barry Pepper, veteran Jeffrey De Munn and sadistic Doug Hutchison), and his two inmates (Graham Greene and Michael Jeter). When John Coffey (Michael Clarke Duncan, in a towering performance), a mountainous black man convicted of murdering two young girls is sent to Hanks's block, life alters considerably for those who live and work on the Mile... not least because it seems that the timid Coffey can perform miracles. The Green Mile unfolds very much like a book - the first half of the movie is given getting to know the characters, and exploring the daily trivialities of life on the Mile (the mouse which visits the prisoners, Hanks's urinary infection, execution practices). During the second half, though, Darabont raises the stakes by drawing some powerhouse acting from his performers (notably Hanks, Duncan, Hutchison, James Cromwell and the underrated Michael Jeter), several spine-tingling set pieces, and a whole load of none-too-subtle religious imagery. It is a film which draws you in and completely overwhelms you without you realising it. These characters live and breathe and are real people. That is what makes you care so much about them. The collaboration between Frank Darabont and Thomas Newman is a short, but fruitful one. Again, Newman's music for The Green Mile is not as good as the score he contributed to Shawshank, but there is still much to admire. A mischievous pizzicato string motif for Mr. Jingles the mouse raises more than a smile, and there is plenty of room for Newman's usual idiosyncratic orchestral ensembles, combining a standard string orchestra with a gaggle of unusual soloists. Several moments live on in the memory: the subtle music that accompanies the talks between Edgecomb and his prisoners on the day of their death; the surprisingly violent action cue which underscores a hideously bungled execution; and the soaring epitaph which provides a moving coda for the relationship between Edgecomb and Coffey. Click here for a full review of The Green Mile.
THREE KINGS
CARTER BURWELL
Three Kings is a Hollywood oddity - an action movie with a high level of intelligence, an important political message, and a unique visual style that sets it aside from its contemporaries. Directed by arthouse favourite David O. Russell (Spanking the Monkey, Flirting with Disaster), Three Kings is set in Iraq immediately following the conclusion of the Gulf War. George Clooney, Mark Wahlberg, Ice Cube and Spike Jonze star as a quartet of army soldiers who, after retrieving a secret map from a captured Iraqi soldier, head off into the desert to recapture a shipment of Kuwaiti bullion and return it to its rightful owners. But what begins as a simple mercenary mission quickly turns into something quite different as they find themselves caught up with a group of rebels keen to overthrow Saddam Hussein, but who have been abandoned and left to die by the allied forces who promised them aid. Russell's film is a treat for both the eyes and the intellect. Although some of the camera work is rather hallucinatory, the whole film has a look of gritty realism, as though the film stock has been affected by the searing desert heat. Three Kings also pulls no punches in showing the devastating effects of war, albeit with a sense of gallows humour - and this is the first time I recall seeing the effect of a bullet wound from the inside! Best of all, though, is the fact that Three Kings takes no sides in the conflict. Although the film is told from an American point of view, and although Russell concentrates on the war against Saddam Hussein, he also gives a powerful and moving speech to an Iraqi army officer (Said Taghmaoui), detailing the terrible effect the allied bombs had on his own family. Continuing the trend of delivering the unexpected, the movie's music is by Carter Burwell. Although he isn't given very much to do other than provide atmosphere, he finds time to include one of his usual mournfully beautiful themes to accentuate the plight of the refugees. There are a couple of pumping action cues, and some generic string writing as well, but most interesting parts of the score are when Burwell takes a set of traditional middle eastern instruments and overlays them with a pumping, defiantly western techno beat. It's a clever mix of styles and cultures and, in a way, typifies the film. After all, the Iraqis officially denounced the West as the devil incarnate, but had stockpiles of mobile phones, televisions and blue jeans buried beneath the sand.
THE TALENTED MR. RIPLEY
GABRIEL YARED
An unsettlingly plausible thriller, Anthony Minghella's follow-up to the Oscar-winning The English Patient is a detailed examination of class divide, jealousy, lust, and spiralling chaos, neatly presented as a clever murder story. Matt Damon stars as the eponymous Tom Ripley, a down-at-heel piano tuner who, in his own words, has just three talents: forging signatures, lying and impersonating people. A case of mistaken identity finds Tom on his way to 1950s Italy, hired by shipping magnate Herbert Greenleaf (James Rebhorn) to retrieve his bourgeois son Dickie (Jude Law), who has been living the high life amongst the jet set with his father's money and his girlfriend Marge (Gwyneth Paltrow). Finding himself a little out of his depth, Ripley begins spinning tall tales in an attempt to ingratiate himself with Dickie's social circle, and is eventually welcomed into the fraternity. But, despite appearances, the class divide between Ripley and his new associates still remains apparent, and soon Dickie grows bored of Ripley's company and attempts to ditch him. However, Tom has become completely enamoured by his new lifestyle and the excellent company he keeps, and will do anything to maintain it... even if it means resorting to murder. This is a film which toys with many interesting ideas, but ultimately leaves the viewer more thoughtful than thrilled. I don't mind films like this, where the story's main concept remains longer in the memory than the film itself, but I can imagine how the multiplex crowd might leave the cinema muttering derogatory remarks under its collective breath. Matt Damon is excellent in the lead role, allowing his performance to drift from adorably awkward and geeky one minute, to intensely uncomfortable the next. The fact that one can empathise with Ripley's character, and if not condone then at least understand his actions, proves to be a masterstroke on Damon's part. Similarly, Gwyneth Paltrow is excellent, becoming visually haggard and distraught as the film progresses. The Oscar-nominated Jude Law is superb as the wanna-be playboy whose attitudes so enrage Ripley, and Philip Seymour Hoffman leaves a lasting impression as Dickie's arrogant pal Freddie Miles, who is all cheek and jowl and scathing remarks. Gabriel Yared's score in the film is, it has to be said, somewhat transparent, and will be virtually unnoticeable to all except those who make a point of listening out for it. Perhaps this is the sign of a good score - when the music is so ingrained into the fabric of a film that it achieves its aims without you realising - and, under those criteria, Yared succeeds admirably. The theme for Ripley himself is heard many times during the score, with dark and dangerous clarinets lending an eerie beauty to the title character's terrible deeds. There are several other memorable musical occasions, including a great Italianate theme for when Tom arrives at Dickie's Mediterranean hideaway, and the extended, horrifying finale which is scored against type with a heart-breaking string lament. Jazz plays a major role in the movie too, with appreciative nods to the likes of Charlie Parker, Dizzy Gillespie, Miles Davis, and a rollicking on-screen performance of the Latino classic To Vou' Fa L'Americano. Click here for a full review of The Talented Mr. Ripley.
TOPSY TURVY
CARL DAVIS
William Schwenck Gilbert and Arthur Sullivan were, in their day, the toast of musical London, but in the year 2000 their light-hearted librettos are regarded by many with nothing more than affectionate amusement, a relic of a bygone day with little or no relevance to today's society. I have to admit that, until seeing this movie, I had very little regard for, and even less interest in Gilbert & Sullivan's music. But Mike Leigh's film, Topsy-Turvy, has quite honestly changed all that. Leigh's film is a detailed, sumptuous costume drama detailing the strained relationship the two "enjoyed" during the time leading up to the premiere of arguably their most famous work, The Mikado. Considering that Leigh is most famous for his gritty, realistic, angry portrayals of British suburban life, the fact that we now find him directing a lush, florid period piece is somewhat surprising - but he pulls it off admirably, with the support of a perfectly chosen cast. The brilliant Jim Broadbent plays Gilbert with a gruff stoicism and deeply buried emotions, the nonsensical rhyming language of his plays being his only creative outlet, while the comparatively unknown Allan Corduner gives Sullivan a sense of a man who feels he has untapped potential, and who wants to use it before it is too late. And there is sterling support from pretty much the entire cast, but especially Timothy Spall, Kevin McKidd, Lesley Manville, Martin Savage and Shirley Henderson. And the fact that Leigh has exchanged his usually gloomy settings with the opulence of Victorian London without losing any of the drama, humour and satire is a testament to his immense talent as a writer and director. And then there is the music - the driving force of the movie - adapted and conducted by Carl Davis from Sullivan's original works. As one would expect, there are several indulgent performances of famous G&S songs, including "Behold the High Executioner", "Three Little Maids" and "A More Humane Mikado" from The Mikado, plus selections from the operettas The Sorcerer and Princess Ida. Each of these are enjoyable in their own unique way, and exquisitely staged and admirably performed by the actors themselves. The score itself is slightly more unusual, in that Davis has re-orchestrated some of Sullivan's themes and specifically adapted them to give the film dramatic drive. Even more unusually, it works a treat, lending an extra edge to many scenes (especially the conclusive, heartbreaking conversation between Gilbert and his neglected wife).
THE END OF THE AFFAIR
MICHAEL NYMAN
Watching The End of the Affair, one cannot help but have flashbacks to the amorous liaisons of Trevor Howard and Celia Johnson. The clipped tones, starched collars and uncommonly polite mannerisms associated with the English are all in place - but unlike the classic Brief Encounter, the "intimacy" between Ralph Fiennes and Julianne Moore is anything but chaste. Based on the semi-autobiographical novel by Graham Greene, The End of the Affair explores a tragic four-way relationship that existed in pre- and post-War London. Fiennes stars as Maurice Bendrix, a novelist, who embarks upon a passionate love affair with Sarah Miles (Moore), the wife of stuffy bureaucrat Henry (Stephen Rea). After a destructive bombing raid on Bendrix's home, Miles inexplicably cuts short their affair - but it is not until years later that the truth about the fourth member of their quartet is revealed. Fiennes, Moore and Rea are all utterly believable in their roles, with Rea impressing especially as the good-hearted but feeble Henry, resigned to his fate as a failure, both as a lover and a husband. Neil Jordan's stylish, rain-soaked depiction of 1940s London is tempered by moments of great beauty and unexpected violence, and Michael Nyman's precise, highly structured music sounds absolutely perfect, managing to be both pure and smouldering at the same time, and as a result capturing the duality of the central relationship - immensely proper, but intensely passionate. Much of Nyman's music accompanies the many love scenes Fiennes and Moore share on-screen, and although it may seem a little improper to say so, the tempo and rhythmic undulation in Nyman's strings seem to actually form part of "the act", as though Fiennes and Moore were copulating in time. As is often the case with Nyman, his music never comments directly on what is happening on-screen, instead content to portray the overarching emotions that weigh heavily on all the character's minds. There is great beauty and great sensitivity to long, deep string lines, reaching to a superb, oddly moving finale. Click here for a full review of The End of the Affair.
TOY STORY 2
RANDY NEWMAN
There's a case to be made for saying that Toy Story 2 is one of the greatest animated motion pictures ever made. This is a sweeping statement, I know, considering that saying this would rank it alongside the likes of Bambi, Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs and Pinocchio. But the point about Toy Story 2 is that, after around three or four minutes, you completely forget that you are watching clusters of computerised pixels as opposed to real people. The level of detail in this movie is absolutely astonishing - things like dust, reflective surfaces, shadow, perspective, all the things we take for granted in our movies are brought smashing home when you sit back and contemplate the fact that every single speck had to be programmed into the computer by hand. It's quite mind-blowing, really. But aside from its technical genius, Toy Story 2 is a highly enjoyable movie, succeeding on many levels. It's an exciting adventure story, a moving observation on the nature of growing up, a gentle satire which takes loving pot-shots at George Lucas and Steven Spielberg, and is genuinely funny throughout (although many of the jokes will go over the head of most 5-year olds). Tom Hanks and Tim Allen return to lend their voices to the characters of Woody and Buzz Lightyear, who have patched up their differences and now live happily in their owner Andy's bedroom. However, Woody is stolen from a yard sale by an unscrupulous toy collector who realises that he is, in fact, a rare and valuable doll from a 1950s TV series - and is set to be shipped off to a museum in Japan. Buoyed by his status as a space ranger and his loyalty to his friends, Buzz, along with fellow toys Mr. Potatohead, Rex, Hamm and Slinky Dog, set off across the city to rescue their pal from peril. Sadly, the only thing which doesn't really work is Randy Newman's score. Only during the opening moments, in which Buzz dreams he is doing battle with the evil Emperor Zurg on a faraway planet, does the music really shine, allowing Newman to stretch his action muscles with a series of cues that manage to pastiche every sci-fi score in history while still sounding brilliant. Similarly, the heart-stopping finale inside a speeding aeroplane is cleverly constructed, with music that would sound equally at home in an action blockbuster. Sarah McLachlan's gut-wrenching performance of Newman's song "When She Loved Me" will surely not leave a dry eye in the house, and the conclusive Vegas-style rendition of "You Got A Friend In Me" by the newly-squeakered Wheezy the Penguin is great. Unfortunately, the rest of Newman's work is mere cartoon music, simply matching the action and never really coming to the fore. Having said that, it doesn't detract from the film in any way. I don't think anything could. Click here for a full review of Toy Story 2.
THE BEACH
ANGELO BADALAMENTI
With horror stories of on-set bust ups, clashes with the Thai government, and a lead actor laid low by illness, one could have been forgiven for thinking that The Beach might have been the first high-profile flop of the new millennium. But, thankfully, this is not the case - although it is highly likely that the vast majority of Leonardo Di Caprio's teenage pin-up fans will be somewhat bemused and disappointed by the finished product. Adapted from the popular novel by Alex Garland and directed by Danny "Trainspotting" Boyle, The Beach stars Leo as Richard, an American backpacker who finds himself in Bangkok searching for meaning in his banal life. After an encounter with a psychotic Scotsman (Robert Carlyle) in a squalid hotel room, Richard learns of the existence of a beach on a remote island, reputedly so perfect and untouched that is considered to be a genuine paradise on Earth. With two French travellers (Virginie Ledoyen and Guillaume Canet) for company, Richard sets off in search of the mythical shoreline - but quickly finds out that life in paradise is not all it seems to be. It seems as though The Beach can't make up its mind as to what kind of film it wants to be, and it veers unsteadily from genre to genre. It starts out as a commentary on the world's commercialism, throws in a bit of shock horror and black comedy, includes a long segment extolling the natural beauty of the Thai countryside, gets all romantic, and finishes up like something out of Apocalypse Now. But, against all the odds, it works really well, and ends up being an interesting and compelling film, marred only by the fact that it seems to have no real point for existing. The lead performance by Di Caprio is a big advantage - people seem to have forgotten that, prior to his star making turn in Titanic, he was widely considered to be one of the leading dramatic actors of his generation - as is the marvellous cinematography by Darius Khondji. Similarly, The Beach marks yet another step in the right direction for Angelo Badalamenti, who is slowly but surely turning himself into one of Hollywood's major composers after years as an indie favourite. His music for The Beach is simple, uncomplicated, and beautiful, with long and graceful string lines augmented by the familiar Twin Peaks synths. In one scene especially, where Richard, Etienne and Françoise make their swim to the island, Badalementi's music simply soars. There is also an opportunity for him to engage in some pseudo-psychedelic electronica with pop group Orbital to underscore the sights and sounds of a neon-lit Bangkok, while the finale provides a rare chance for him to compose some straight action music - a side to the New Yorker we rarely see. The CD features one score cut ("Beached") tagged onto the end of a sackful of songs by dancefloor superstars such as Leftfield, Moby, Dario G, Mory Kante, Blur and All Saints. Click here for a full review of The Beach.
HOUSE ON HAUNTED HILL
DON DAVIS
As musically talented as Don Davis is, he's going to have to attach himself to some better projects than this if he's going to scale the heights many are predicting. To date, the only high quality theatrical movies Davis has been attached to have been Bound and The Matrix, both of which were for the Wachowski brothers. House on Haunted Hill is most definitely not a quality motion picture, failing on almost every count - with the exception of some quite good special effects and, predictably, Davis's large gothic score. The film stars Geoffrey Rush as Stephen Price, a multi-millionaire designer of sadistic rollercoasters and other scary amusements. For his equally twisted wife's (Famke Janssen) birthday party, Price hires a long-deserted mental hospital, and invites a group of strangers (including Taye Diggs, Peter Gallagher and Bridgette Wilson) to spend the night, with the added incentive of $1 million each - provided they are still breathing come daybreak. However, it transpires that the house has a rather gruesome history, and soon the guests are locked in and fighting for their lives against an unseen but deadly force. Sadly, as a movie, House on Haunted Hill is a miserable flop. It is one of those films where you know what's going to happen ten minutes beforehand, and every supposed "shocking twist" is telegraphed, leaving very little for the audience to dwell upon. There are a couple of interesting red herrings, some creatively grisly special effects, and appropriately atmospheric production design, but the haphazard direction by William Malone and clichéd screenplay by Dick Beebe completely destroy any chance the film had of being a success. Geoffrey Rush seems to enjoy chewing the scenery, and Famke Janssen has a ball vamping it up as his wife, but the rest of the unknown cast seem to be pretty much going through the motions. Although much of it is buried under the shrieking sound effects, Don Davis has a blast rekindling the musical flames of Hammer horror, but with a defiantly post-modern touch. Pipe organs groan away, setting the tone and instilling the doubts in the minds of the viewers. Unique, highly stylised choral work (in which the voices seem to be engaging in random yelling) accompany much of the gory carnage, and the orchestra screams bloody murder for the rest of the time, constantly battling to be heard above the death throes of the innocent (or not-so-innocent) victims. Davis is a film music star, to be sure, but as I said at the start of this review, he's going to have to attach himself to some better projects than this in future to avoid being stereotyped. Click here for a full review of House on Haunted Hill.
AMERICAN BEAUTY
THOMAS NEWMAN
All the plaudits heaped upon this movie to date have been completely deserved: American Beauty is far and away the best motion picture I have seen this millennium. Although the description may sound a little corny, the film is an examination of a family in crisis, a look behind the white picket fences of middle America. We have, of course, seen this type of movie umpteen times before, from David Lynch's ground-breaking Blue Velvet, to Todd Solondz's Happiness last year. American Beauty, though, in the hands of director Sam Mendes and screenwriter Alan Ball, it all seems fresh and new, combining genuine laughs and moments of uncomfortable comedy with heartbreakingly truthful episodes of human tragedy and emotion. Kevin Spacey stars as Lester Burnham, a man suffering from a mid-life crisis. His wife Carolyn (Annette Bening) and daughter Jane (Thora Birch) consider him a "loser", his boss is threatening to fire him, and he lives next door to a reactionary ex-Marine (Chris Cooper) and his drug-dealer son (Wes Bentley). Things begin to alter for Lester, though, when he develops an unexpected crush on his daughter's sexually precocious classmate (Mena Suvari) - a liaison which inspires him to quit his job and alter his mundane existence. However, the sudden change in Lester's life has serious repercussions for all around him. In accepting his Golden Globe for Best Director, Sam Mendes thanked Thomas Newman for the invaluable contribution he made to the movie by way of his offbeat, unusual, but wholly appropriate original score. I can't quite put my finger on why Thomas Newman's music works for American Beauty - it just does. There are no themes, no conventional orchestrations, and nothing that anyone could describe as real beauty. It plays completely at odds with the film's inherent ordinariness of tone and style, at times providing a skewed, almost hallucinatory angle to otherwise everyday scenes of simple human interaction. A collection of the most peculiar musical instruments imaginable perform the score, resulting in sense of being detached from convention - which, considering the nature of the film, was perhaps the whole point. Newman often writes scores which can be termed as "oddball", but never has one been as perfectly judged as this. Click here for a full review of American Beauty.
WONDERLAND
MICHAEL NYMAN
For reasons unknown, Michael Winterbottom has never made a commercially successful film, despite being a director with undisputed talent, as the critically-acclaimed Jude and Welcome to Sarajevo attest. His latest effort, Wonderland, is something of a departure from him in that it conforms in part to the "Dogme 95" cinematic rules laid out by a group of international directors five years ago, which champion the maintenance of complete realism in cinema - hand held cameras, natural lighting, authentic locations, and so on. The language and interactions are completely unforced, at times almost seeming to be improvised. You truly believe in the genuineness and realism of what is happening on screen. The film is a documentary-style drama set in London, and follows a weekend in the life of three sisters (Gina McKee, Molly Parker and Shirley Henderson) and their extended families as they go about their daily business. Mundane things happen, of course - they go out on dates, they go to work, they argue and make up with their partners. But the weekend also marks a transitional point in each of their lives, and we are allowed to witness some of the more unusual, quirky and unique moments as well, from the birth of a baby to the death of a noisy dog. The only part of Wonderland that does not conform to the Dogme 95 rules is in its use of music, which stipulates that films can have no original score - you don't have a score to your life, so why should a film? But Michael Nyman's music lifts the movie and gives it life, and passion, and hope. It plays completely at odds to the film itself, never alluding to specific scenes or accompanying action. Instead, it accompanies the characters on their respective journeys, and seeks to illustrate their attempts to better themselves: get better jobs, have better relationships, better sex lives, better lives. Each character in the film is assigned a specific melody, and the soaring sounds of Nyman's strings bring out their hopes and dreams. Several cleverly-edited montage sequences, in which the characters move through London's neon-lit Soho, are turned into brief masterpieces by Nyman's work alone. Collages of music and imagery, both beautiful and grotesque, combine to create a film which, while probably not suitable for the megaplex crowd, is a gritty, uplifting slice of life. And, for those who are confused about the relevance of the film's title, it stems from the name of the baby born at the end of the movie. Alice - as in Wonderland. Click here for a full review of Wonderland.
DOUBLE JEOPARDY
NORMAND CORBEIL
I find it a little peculiar that a film like Double Jeopardy actually made it to the big screen at all. Saddled with an over-familiar plotline and a rather lumpy screenplay, it is the undoubtedly due to the combination of star names Tommy Lee Jones and Ashley Judd and Oscar-winning director Bruce Beresford that this movie has turned out as good as it has. Judd plays Libby Parsons, a successful wife and mother who is framed by her husband Nick (Bruce Greenwood) and sent to prison for his supposed murder. Meanwhile, Nick has disappeared with the insurance money, their son and the nanny (Annabeth Gish). After six long years inside, during which time she discovers the truth about her "crime", Libby is paroled, but soon skips bail and heads off on a trek across the length and breadth America to right the wrongs and be reunited with her beloved son Matty. However, she doesn't count on the dogged determination of her parole officer Travis Lehman (Jones), who quickly sets off in hot pursuit. The acting and technical credits of Double Jeopardy are all top-notch, and in the hands of a director as competent as Beresford, it was never going to be a dull movie. But, despite all this, there is still a niggling feeling that, under different circumstances, Double Jeopardy could easily have been a commonplace movie-of-the-week, saddled with a clichéd title like "A Woman Scorned" or "A Mother's Vengeance" or something like that. I assume that, for the majority of you out there, the name Normand Corbeil will be unfamiliar. I too admit that, other than having watching a couple of movies he scored on TV (Screamers, The Assignment), this is the first time I have ever properly heard the work of the French Canadian composer - but I'm quite impressed. To begin with a summary, Corbeil has written a likeable, uncomplicated thriller score using a large orchestra and some subtle electronic enhancements. The main theme is an unusually understated piece that does not really capture the attention, and does not seem to bode well for the rest of the score. However, Corbeil's lovely orchestral main theme rises to the fore during the scene in which Nick and Libby set sail on board their yacht, and from then on the score is on the whole excellent. A couple of great action sequences (on board the car ferry, through the streets of New Orleans) underline Corbeil's action credentials, and the heart-warming finale where Libby is reunited with her son provides further evidence of Corbeil's largely untapped talents. Unusually, there is no soundtrack of any kind for Double Jeopardy - probably the result of the unknown composer/no songs double whammy - but a promo would certainly be in order.
BICENTENNIAL MAN
JAMES HORNER
Bicentennial Man is the new Robin Williams film, adapted from Isaac Asimov's successful novel about a robot's quest for self-awareness. Set in San Francisco in the near future, Williams plays Andrew, an android programmed to carry out household chores and other menial duties. Purchased by a wealthy family headed by Sam Neill (referred to throughout the movie simply as "Sir") and his wife Wendy Crewson, Andrew unexpectedly forms an attachment with the family's youngest daughter, Little Miss, who grows up to look like Embeth Davidtz. As time passes, Andrew inexplicably develops hitherto unencountered human characteristics, ranging from love and affection to jealousy and curiosity, and becomes almost like one of the family. However, Andrew soon discovers the reality of immortality, as all those around him die, and embarks upon a quest to become more human himself. Bicentennial Man is a schmaltzy, sentimental, manipulative, but oddly enjoyable movie, anchored by Williams' central performance, who turns Andrew into a friendlier and slightly less manic variation of the Mork character he played in the popular 1970's sitcom. Chris Columbus's direction is uninspired but competent, and kudos should go to the clever attention to detail marking the passing of 200 years. Similarly, make up magician Greg Cannom's ageing effects on Neill, Crewson and Davidtz are truly remarkable, and worthy of Oscar recognition. Now, the first thing I have to point out about Bicentennial Man's music is that, more than any other recent Horner score, the amount of self-copying going on here is immense. But I'm not going to get into that now - I address all of that in my review of the CD (coming next week). This is a review of how effective the score is when heard in its intended setting, and casting aside all those age-old arguments, the truth of the matter is that Horner always delivers the emotional sucker punch. His new theme for Bicentennial Man is simply gorgeous, comforting and lilting and captivating. His orchestrations are lush and deep, and his knack for hitting all the right spots with the just the right kind of music is uncanny. I lost count of the times I got the shivers while watching and listening to this movie, and I'm not too proud to admit that in one particular scene - when Andrew and Sir are watching a recording of Little Miss's wedding projected onto the surface of a lake - I was choking back tears. But it wasn't the performances, or the words, or even the setting that had this effect on me. It was Horner and his incredible music. Stephen Spielberg once said that he uses the number of goose bumps he gets as the main criteria when deciding if a piece of music is good or not. Over the years, Horner must have given me millions, and it is for this reason alone that Horner is, and probably always will be, my favourite composer. Click here for a full review of Bicentennial Man.
STIGMATA
BILLY CORGAN and ELIA CMIRAL
For some peculiar reason, Stigmata thinks it's a horror movie, when in fact it is a quite intriguing religious thriller. Although the differences may be subtle, the distinction between the genres is what has ultimately stopped this film from being good. Written by the appropriately-monickered Tom Lazarus and directed by newcomer Rupert Wainwright, Stigmata stars Gabriel Byrne as Andrew Kiernan, an investigator of "miracles" working for the Vatican. He is sent to modern day Philadelphia to investigate the case of Frankie Paige (Patricia Arquette), an atheist hairdresser who has started showing the signs of stigmata - unaccountably bleeding wounds in the same places as those of Jesus when he was crucified (hands, feet, back, forehead, side). At first sensing a hoax, Kiernan becomes more deeply involved when Frankie also begins to show signs of being possessed, speaking in a tongue she does not know, and writing terrible messages in the language of Christ himself. With flashy editing, hallucinatory camerawork and supposedly artistic slow-motion fades, Stigmata shows all the signs of cinematic overkill when more a simple, straightforward style would have been much more appropriate. This is one of the most obvious cases of a potentially good film being totally ruined by an over-enthusiastic director, whose attention to gory detail was far more important to him than a sensible plot. Flashbacks to The Exorcist abound, especially some of the imagery and the Mercedes McCambridge-inspired demonic voices that emanate from poor old Patricia. Musically too, Stigmata is far too haphazard for its own good, mixing a pounding synth score by Smashing Pumpkins frontman Billy Corgan with more traditional horror music by Czech composer Elia Cmiral. Corgan's efforts tend to accompany the highly stylised scenes of Arquette's stigmatic attacks, and seek to intensify their effect with incessant, jackhammerish electronic noise. However, when combined with the sound effects, Corgan's music is simply too much, and on more than one occasion gave me one of those "grimace" moments when you think your eardrums are going to pop. Cmiral, on the other hand, provided a rather attractive piano melody to illustrate the blossoming relationship between Kiernan and Frankie, as well as some more orchestrally traditional "horror music" which worked much better in context. A CD of music combining Corgan's score with a load of pop songs is available in most record stores; a promo of Cmiral's score alone is available from Intrada.
ANGELA'S ASHES
JOHN WILLIAMS
Angela's Ashes looks stunning, features at least a dozen sensational performances (especially from child actors Joe Breen, Ciaran Owens and Michael Legge), is flawlessly directed and wears its heart on it's sleeve. Unfortunately, is also one of the most unremittingly depressing movies I have ever seen in my entire life. Directed by Alan Parker, Angela's Ashes is based upon the autobiographical novel by Frank McCourt, the oldest child of a family of poor, working-class Irish Catholics in pre-war Limerick. Frank's mother Angela (Emily Watson) and father Malachy (Robert Carlyle) try hard to do their best for their family, but are constantly thwarted by circumstance. Three of Angela's children die in infancy, giving rise to severe bouts of depression, and the McCourt family home is infested with fleas and regularly flooded out, leading to endless other health problems. If that weren't enough, Malachy tries desperately hard to find work, but more often than not drinks his wages in the local pubs, eventually forcing Angela to beg for food. From this terrible upbringing, Frank emerges as an honest, decent lad with a determination to bring better times for himself and his family - but not before he has gone though equally traumatic personal problems of his own. Complementing the rain-soaked, mud-caked look of the film is John Williams' heartbreaking orchestral score - which, in this setting, is in no way diminished by the film's narration. The piano solos and deep string work that dominate much of the score are judged to perfection in terms of accentuating the images. They lends the McCourt family's plight a sense of nobility and quiet desperation without overwhelming it in sentimentality. During several key moments, Williams provides the film's sole emotional content, rising majestically from the gloom to present spine-tingling versions of the lamenting melody. One scene in particular - in which a 15-year old Frank tosses Mrs Finucane's money ledger into the River Shannon with a defiant flourish - had me fighting back the tears. Williams' has written a score of undeniable class, further cementing his reputation as the number one film composer working today. Click here for a full review of Angela's Ashes.
THE BONE COLLECTOR
CRAIG ARMSTRONG
A surprisingly effective thriller with an overpowering atmosphere and an interesting premise, The Bone Collector is director Phillip Noyce's entry in to the genre of films which yielded successes such as The Silence of the Lambs and Seven. Denzel Washington stars as Detective Lincoln Rhyme, once one of New York's finest forensic detectives until an on-the-job accident left him quadriplegic. When a serial killer with a penchant for leaving grotesquely staged crime scenes starts roaming the city streets, the baffled NYPD turns to Rhyme as a last resort to help them catch the killer. Through a two way radio link up, rookie forensic cop Amelia Donaghy (Angelina Jolie) acts as Rhyme's eyes, ears and feet in a race against time to catch the killer. Aside from the wonderfully dark and squalid production design and the moody, moonlight camera work, two things lift The Bone Collector above the usual run of the mill serial killer fare. Firstly, the screen chemistry between Washington and Jolie is electric - not in any sexual way (Washington only has control over one body part - his index finger), but as a meeting of minds, intellects and kindred spirits. Washington especially is marvellous, giving a subtle performance despite being restricted to his bed for 99% of the movie. There is also a great supporting cast that includes Queen Latifah as Washington's nurse, Ed O'Neill as a solid and dependable cop, and Luis Guzman as a forensic expert - the first time I have ever seen the Latino character actor playing someone with a brain! Secondly, Craig Armstrong's excellent score complements the atmosphere perfectly, lending the film an increased sense of oppression. A recurring theme for strings and a solo piano acts as a motif for the New York itself, accompanying several excellent vistas of the city that never sleeps. A choir plays a big part too, drawing noteworthy comparisons with Chris Young's work on films of this type. And then there are the action sequences, into which Armstrong regularly injects a powerful, pulsating electronic rhythm, allowing the cues to convey an increased sense of urgency. This is one of the best out-and-out thriller scores I have heard - in the film - for quite a while, and further compounds the reputation Armstrong is building for himself following William Shakespeare's Romeo + Juliet and Plunkett & Macleane. Click here for a full review of The Bone Collector.
BLUE STREAK
EDWARD SHEARMUR
An undemanding, thoroughly enjoyable comedy cop thriller, Blue Streak is Martin Lawrence's first bonafide solo hit since he teamed up with Will Smith in Bad Boys back in 1995. Lawrence plays Miles Logan, a master thief who steals a priceless diamond from a LA depository, only to be double-crossed by his partner (Peter Greene). After stashing the gem in the ventilation system of a building site across the street, Logan is caught and jailed. Emerging from jail two years later, Logan finds to his horror that the then-derelict building is now a buzzing LAPD precinct, so he does the only thing he can think of - he pretends to be a cop to gain access to the building, and his diamond. The problems start when he inadvertently foils a robbery and is hailed as a "supercop" by his new colleagues, and is sent out with a new partner (Luke Wilson) to fight crime on the streets of L.A. The last person you would expect to compose music for a movie like this is young Brit Ed Shearmur, especially when you consider the overtly classical nature of his two most famous scores, Wings of the Dove and The Governess. But, beyond all expectations, his work is exceptionally groovy, although it never quite reaches the Schifrinesque heights it quite obviously modelled on. Throughout the movie, Shearmur uses lots of synths backed by a kicking R&B rhythm, alluding to the funky musical tastes of Lawrence's character. There are also a number of cracking action sequences which incorporate a contemporary orchestra into the mix: the stealthy opening jewel heist sequence, one or two of the car chases, and the finale in the drug dealer's warehouse are particularly good, although unfortunately the score is often quite low in the mix and has to contend with squealing tyres and hails of bullets as a result. Yet again, Shearmur is short changed when it comes to the album, which is song-only compilation featuring music by R&B artists such as Jay-Z, Foxy Brown, Kelly Price and Tyrese.
BRINGING OUT THE DEAD
ELMER BERNSTEIN
New York City hasn't looked this nightmarish since director Martin Scorsese was last here, in 1976 with Taxi Driver. But Bringing Out The Dead is both similar and very different to that classic work. Visually and stylistically, there are many similarities: the rain-soaked midnight streets are lit up by garish neon signs and blazing car headlights; steam spills from manholes and litter fills the gutter. The sidewalks are crammed with the lowlifes of society: drunks, hobos, hookers, pimps, drug pushers and drug users. But whereas Taxi Driver was about a man's descent into a personal hell, Bringing Out The Dead is a tale about redemption. Nicolas Cage's character is not a Travis Bickle for the 1990s. Cage plays Frank Pierce, a paramedic who works the graveyard shift in New York's toughest districts, whose constant exposure to the human dregs, combined with his own insomnia, pushes him dangerously close to the limit of his sanity. Plagued by the people who misuse the service he provides, haunted by the faces of the citizens whose lives he has failed to save, and tormented by his co-workers (bible-quoting Ving Rhames, borderline psychotic Tom Sizemore, coolly indifferent John Goodman), Pierce finally senses a chance for salvation in the shape of Mary Burke (Patricia Arquette), the daughter of an elderly heart attack patient who frequents the hospital in which he works - if only he can overcome his inner demons and put his past behind him. As is the case in Scorsese films, Bringing Out The Dead features a soundtrack packed to the hilt with songs, the lyrics of which often comment specifically on the scene at hand. Unlike Goodfellas and Casino, though, Scorsese has also found the space to include an original score, written here by Elmer Bernstein. Despite having a limited amount of time to make an impression, Bernstein's work is nevertheless unique and intriguing, often sounding like something Howard Shore might have written in these circumstances. Slow, almost minimalist shifting tones combine with a highly stylised solo saxophone, seemingly echoing the ambulance siren as it travels through the city streets and providing another subliminal link to the Taxi Driver sound. A gentle, hesitant theme for woodwinds and strings accompanies the growing relationship between Frank and Mary, while the end credits offers the longest section of score in the entire movie - a sombre but comparatively beautiful piece for sax, harp, strings and the omnipresent ondes martenot. The CD, unfortunately, features none of Bernstein's score, instead bringing together a whole load of songs by The Clash, Van Morrison, R.E.M., UB40, The Who and others.
SLEEPY HOLLOW
DANNY ELFMAN
A gorgeous-looking fantasy, Tim Burton's Sleepy Hollow adds a new slant to the classic tale of Ichabod Crane and the legend of the Headless Horseman, brought to life by the cult director's unique brand of visual majesty, oppressive atmospherics and dream-like sensibilities. Johnny Depp, who worked with Burton on Edward Scissorhands and Ed Wood, stars as Crane, an 18th century New York police constable sent from the big city to solve a mystery in the farming community of Sleepy Hollow, the villagers of which are being terrorised by a mysterious, murderous, sword-wielding spectre with no head. Upon arrival, Crane tumbles headlong into an age-old mystery, and encounters all manner of curious characters, including local businessman Van Garrett (Michael Gambon), his lovely daughter (Christina Ricci), his mysterious wife (Miranda Richardson) and community figures played by character actors Jeffrey Jones, Richard Griffiths, Ian McDiarmid and Michael Gough. With all the eerily beautiful visual elements in place, Burton again turned to Danny Elfman for the score, and Elfman has responded magnificently. While his work never reaches the musical heights of his earlier Burton scores Edward Scissorhands and Batman, Sleepy Hollow is still a marvellous accomplishment, mixing the dark and powerful style from his past with the musical and orchestrational complexity of recent years. A massive brass fanfare for the Horseman himself thunders forth from a score mainly dominated by quivering strings and vocal effects, both for solo children and the massed choir. Elfman's music is at the same time chilling and attractive, while his action cues for the many beheadings and swordfights are powerful and energetic. Click here for a full review of Sleepy Hollow.
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Movie Music U.K is designed and maintained by Jonathan Broxton (c) 2000. All opinions and views expressed on these pages are my own and are in no way intended to reflect those the University of Sheffield. All photos and album artwork used on Movie Music U.K. are only for the non-profit making promotional purposes and no copyright infringement is intended.